


Let Not My Longing Be In Vain

by orchidlocked



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Angst, Cardassian Culture, Cardassian Literature, Cardassian Politics, Cardassians, Epistolary, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon Cardassia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Starfleet, Trill - Freeform, Trill Culture (Star Trek), United Federation of Planets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28377699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidlocked/pseuds/orchidlocked
Summary: In the wake of the devastation of the Dominion War, Cardassia needs all the help it can get. The various forces in the sector have decided that a restored and functional Cardassia is in the best interest of the stability of the region, and many different governments are pushing for Cardassia's fast-tracked admission to the Federation. Doctor Julian Bashir chose to stay on Deep Space Nine in the absence of a clear path forward, and Garak is serving in Kardasi'Or as a Civil Representative, working with many familiar faces from the Cardassian Resistance. In the midst of Cardassia's darkest modern hour, a dangerous pathogen emerges from the Northern Continent and threatens to undo what meager progress has been made.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Ezri Dax
Comments: 19
Kudos: 30





	1. Carrying a Dok’úna Across the Eĵkařa

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know how long this will be, but I am four chapters completed and trying to keep it within an outline unlike my last long fic I wrote LOL. But I am excited. As the summary said, this is an outbreak fic... aka my attempt to deal emotionally with what the fuck is happening in my country right now *price_is_right_losing_horn.mp3* 
> 
> I have so many feelings about Cardassia and Cardassian culture, as anyone who's read anything I've done can tell, lmao, I'm just on a vibe right now and i wanted to write something post-canon. 
> 
> Some of my thoughts on this were informed by Picard and the fact that at some point, we know Cardassia is admitted into the Federation; for this fic, I was thinking about a newly admitted Bajor and the general region being like, "yo, we have to help Cardassia rebuild so it can stay stable and so they can not try to go all military again." I'm not super versed in many of the post-canon ds9 novels but I have read excepts from pretty much all of them. Anyways. I'm getting too in the weeds here lol. I just wanted to write this story ahah.
> 
> Also, all chapters are starting with a literary reference or a cultural reference of some sort, I'm writing all of these as excerpts from Cardassian literature so sort of ... writing Cardassian stories and mythology as we go here too. It's a quote, but from something else that I wrote for this fic, lol.

“From the hands of Lokor, his faithful assistant, the arkan’taú [communiques] piled up on Castellan Erak’s table like stacked flat peCh’akha [sunset grain] bread at market. However, unlike the crispy bread which held smoked zabu, topped with crystallized t’silar [segmented citrus], with them they brought no sweetness. Cardassia was descending out of order, and to be Castellan in the era of Disunity was to attempt to gather a thousand dried canes of lid’kúli [pole grain] with only two arms.

Erak was aware that under the tall pile of requests and needs there was a kú’danok [note] from Doctor Trilmet. He could sense her words, full of çua’das [wit] and kinat [bite], present in the room with him. He longed to engage in spirited kamara [argument/flirt] with her while walking the grounds of the State Archives. But to Cardassia he belonged, and to Cardassia was his idolan [duty].

“A Castellan with no companion carries a dok’úna [boulder] across the eĵkařa [empire],” observed Lokor, ever-nizaim [loyal].

Erak was silent before his distant words returned to him. His scales had grown dull, and his robes were dusty. “My loneliness is a řolak’inat [biting gnat]. The whine of its flight in my ear causes me to slap the side of my face; the itch of its bite leaves raised marks upon my hands. But the troubles that stalk Cardassia are a pack of flayers, the vicious hunters that will tear the woven fabric of our world into the strings of the kio’masilutaý [fiber producing plant]. If I do not fend off the roving flayers, I certainly will never have the opportunity to flatten the řolak’inat.”

Lokor nodded. “You are an Honorable man, Castellan, and your words hold domkúnçua [wisdom] without breaking. They land upon my ears as slõuka [soft rain*]. In service to Cardassia, we fulfill our highest duties.”

Lokor left the room, and Erak continued reading the arkan’taú one by one. But Lokor was correct, and Erak had only spoken as if to himself. Lokor had gracefully departed, allowing Erak the dignity of remembering the rest of the proverb in solitude.

“ A Castellan with no companion carries a dok’úna across the eĵkařa; only with a nizsualimý [devoted and faithful enjoined] is any leader able to achieve the highest calling of their arkei [service to the people]. ”

Erak sighed. He looked out the window at the vahnajep’ii [streetlamps] of Lakari’Or. His mind latched upon Doctor Trilmet and the possibility of a long night of garúi [brainstorming, imagining together] with the Doctor; vultaný [brained, intelligent] as she was, she surely could offer her maçua [brilliance] in service to Cardassia. No, he did not allow himself the luxury of imagining Doctor Trilmet in the First Spouse’s arkan’kio [official robes], standing next to him before the Detapa Council, sharing her lai’dekel [scientific research] with the virtarin [official representatives] from Prime and all planets in the system, his face weary from all the dazunda [pride, delight, joy, satisfaction] that danced upon it. He did not feel the naduan [ache] in his abdomen as he worked alone until the ra’ajev [sun] replaced the light of his uepita [little lamp.]”

\- Service Is The Only Virtue

* * *

Garak,

I hope my words find you well. There isn’t much of a reason for me to write, really, although I guess – if I want to get technical about it, I’m not actually writing, I’m speaking this into my comm logs, but – all right, Julian, you [unintelligible] fine, that’s beside the point – other than the point, which is, I was just wondering how you were doing. It has been months since I heard anything from you.

I’m hoping the reason for your delayed response is simply the many needs of Cardassia. I’m sure that’s what it is. You are quite important and you’re – well, I can’t even imagine the numerous demands on your time. I certainly don’t mean to be a burden, ah, erase that, a bother. Just thought I’d get in a quick hello.

We don’t get as much news from the surface as I’d like, but I have heard bits here and there about how the restoration is going. Sounds like grueling work. There was a Bolian civil engineer at Quark’s the other day, she was kind enough to talk with me for a few hours and give me what updates she could. From what I hear, it seems as though the work is many and the hands are few, as my grandmother would say. However, I don’t think anyone is better suited for this work than you, Garak.

Finally got around to finishing _The Bitter Wages of Disloyalty_. I certainly see why you wanted me to sink my teeth into it, the intrigue was astounding! Well. I won’t waste any more of your time with my – what did you call it? ‘as foolish as the one who waits to watch the moon scorpion emerge from its burrow?’ ‘Federaji nonsense’ observations, although if you were here, I would be happy to waste an hour or two over lunch with you. But, obviously, I know you don’t have the time to waste, and, well, I’m [unintelligible] what is most important. The work you’re doing, is what is most important, that’s what I meant to say. I’d update you on what’s happening here, but, there’s not really much to tell. Same as it ever was.

Again, I hope you are well. As well as one can be, given the circumstances. And I hope to hear from you soon, if time permits.

Until then,  
Julian

* * *

Kardasi'Or  
Cardassia Prime

Elim Garak awoke to the sharp sounds of his irpek’eva [alarm], and for a blissful moment, he imagined he was about to roll out of bed and down to the promenade.

He sat up and headed for the replicator without bothering to look at his reflection. His scales were dry, the ends of his hair starting to separate and become unruly, and he had been delaying a shed for weeks. He looked dreadful; he only wished there was someone – a single someone – on this bombarded planet who would take him aside and force him to take a half hour to tend to himself, since apparently no one on his staff had the fortitude to say a thing about it. Even a small cutting remark about the lifted edges of his scales would have done wonders for Garak’s mood. But he was not on a broken down space station in the middle of nowhere, free to cast off some of the social mores of his homeworld. He was back on Cardassia Prime, where all the rules applied; as the saying went, ‘the rules you know and especially the rules you don’t know.’ And he was no longer a nobody in exile, hemming pants for credit at Quark’s, he was in Kardasi’Or, the capital city, showing his face daily as part of the new civilian government, breathing his father tongue and brushing the red dust from his hair. Where once he had been in the shadows, he was now in the sunlight, trying to save himself by saving Cardassia. He used one replicator ration to make a choban’hafa [energy tea], sucked it down while dressing in one of his two outfits formal enough for working in the legislature, and then walked out onto the bombed-out streets of Kardasi’Or. He was living in his old flat, which by some miracle hadn’t been completely destroyed, although it was one of five buildings left standing on the block.

But there was no time for dwelling on such matters. Not this morning. Probably not the next.

Garak put his arm through the sleeve of his mi’nila [dress jacket] and felt it rip, right at the shoulder seam. He groaned, remained still for a moment to allow the frustration to pass. He really had to get back to the station before too long. He knew wartime was unpredictable, but ending up back on Cardassia Prime, as a representative of the civil government, without enough possessions to so much as fill a suitcase? Not an ideal situation. Garak snatched a tapestry from the wall and pinned it in place with a tool meant for resetting the stove. The Cardassian people had bigger concerns than a drafty hole in his mi’nila. He choked down the bitter choban’hafa and left, his burgundy and black robe swirling gracefully behind him despite looking a bit worse for wear. He kept his eyes straight ahead on the brief walk to his new place of employment.

“Itozeý maelin, Virtaý [Representative] Garak.” Garak was greeted by his undersecretary, Kilmar; a kind man with the temperament of a placid, glassy tarem [lake].  
  
“And itozeý maelin [a courageous day-hatch] to you as well, Kilmar. Love that jacket on you. Have anything for me?”  
  
“Yes, there are four. Two on official channels, two on personal.”

“Honorable Kilmar, I thank you, as always you create order from chaos.” Garak nodded respectfully and entered his pitiful ‘office,’ a windowless room in the Northern Wing of the State Archives, the only part of the building that wasn’t crumbling to the ground. He closed the door behind him and sat down with a wince. If he didn’t do this shed in the next two days, well, he’d be a mess. Better start with the arkan’taú [communiques].

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Dartha’Or, Kař [Planet] Romulus, Itzik’ar Romulaji [Romulan System]  
zauaúsi [Received]: 0914.36 // ta’ [day]

Attention: Civil Representative Garak  
Cardassia City, Cardassia Prime

Greetings Representative Garak,

The Romulan Star Empire has strategic interests in the Cardassian sector, and recognizes that stability in the Cardassian system is the best hope for a productive relationship between our peoples.

We are able to loan all items requested in your requisition form 3B, with the exception of the four (4) cloaking devices.

This technology is on loan from the Romulan Star Empire. Date of return is negotiable, given the conditions on Cardassia Prime. No piece of technology may be disassembled, replicated, or altered in any way. Failure to accept these terms will have consequences.

In Formality,  
First Commander Dolmaihk, Military Division  
Senator Tivan, Civilian Division

* * *

tolazoj’tani [Standard channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Jalanda’Or, Kař Bajõuaya [Bajor], Itzik’ar Bajõui [Bajoran System]  
zauaúsi [Received]: 1114.36 // ta’ [day]

Salutations from the Sphere of Renewal,

The people of Bajor send their prayers and offerings to the ordinary people of Cardassia, who are enduring unimaginable, undeserved suffering through no fault of their own. The generosity of the Bajoran people is matched only by the wisdom of their perspective and the openness of their hearts, and we graciously offer our aid to the Cardassian people in their time of need.

There are twenty reclamators that can be on Cardassia Prime in a day’s time; the reclamators require skill to operate, and one hundred selfless, courageous Bajorans have volunteered to join the reconstruction effort. Please advise as soon as possible if this effort would be welcomed, or if it would worsen a difficult situation.

With regard to the seed requests: the than’lai and the orsoch have religious and ceremonial importance to the Bajoran people and as such, are not permitted to leave the system. Our top agricultural experts analyzed the list of requests, along with the growing conditions on Cardassia Prime, and made their own substitutions and recommendations. While these crops may differ from those traditionally grown on Cardassia Prime, we have selected them based on their vigor and their production capabilities in your conditions. May they feed the people, and restore the fat to their bones.

Some of these crops are known for their healing of the land when planted as cover for one or two harvest cycles. In particular, the ghardat, the maktot, and the vine of gratitude have been proven to remove contamination found in soils, and all variants of thi’lset are especially effective for correcting the effects of orbital bombardment. We have used these plants successfully on Bajor, to reverse the amoral poisoning of our farmland, and have observed their effectiveness in other systems as well. Detailed guidelines will be included with each variety. As an added joy, the thi’lset also features attractive blooms in shades of pink, yellow, and ultraviolet frequencies.

During times of strife on our planet, when our soils were lifeless and our grain storage was bare, the proud and resourceful Bajoran people always found solace in what we call the Living Arts. Perhaps these gifts will lift the spirits of the everyday Cardassian people as they recover from a senseless military conflict that brought about such tragic loss of life. May the people rebuild their world into one where justice and honor prevail.

In Gratitude and Service to the Prophets,

First Minister Shakaar  
Vedic Ban’aar  
Minister of Agricultural Arts Limyu

* * *

tol’údanok [Personal channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Rixx’Or, kař’ Betazed, Itzik’ar Beta Veldonna  
zauaúsi [Received]: 0218.84 // únoõu [night]

Mister Garak!  
  


It is such a pleasure to hear from you, my old friend. I only wish it were under better circumstances. Just terrible, dear, just awful. I offer my sincerest condolences on the state of things. Just an absolute shame, isn’t it? I do so appreciate your apology about that whole muck of a situation on Betazed, but there’s really no need for it, kitten; it was a brief occupation. We were mostly left alone. Even in the capital city I only saw a few of those Jem’Hadar. Dreadful sight, all that dull black and grey. And the spikes? Awful. Oh, look at me! I’m already getting sidetracked. Let me get to the point.

Regarding your request: I’ve called in a personal favor, and four Golden Class ships full of detezth grain and bell grass will arrive on Cardassia Prime within the week. These staples are versatile, you can cook them any which way you want, and filling – they’ll make you let out your seams, if you know what I mean. This should be a good start to rebuilding your food reserves. We have had record harvest seasons for the past three solar cycles, and honey, believe me when I say, I have so many more favors that are owed to me. Personal favors. So don’t let that Cardassian pride of yours get in the way, do you hear me? You name it, if Betazed has it, I can get it to you.

I hope this message reaches you in good health, and please, don’t forget the importance of self-care during these trying times. I can’t remember if you’ve had the pleasure of visiting the beautiful planet of Betazed, but I would be honored to have you as my guest at some point, whenever you are able to make the trip.

Please do reach out at any time, darling. Consider my lines always open for you. I know your priorities lie with the delicate work of restoring your people for the foreseeable future, but I must say, the seafoam green gown you made for me is a masterwork of design. You are the best tailor I’ve met off-world. I had some of the best nights of my life in that dress, and I’ll have you know, I receive compliments on it to this day. I am no longer in the moonglow of my youth, but sometimes, when I slip on that layered, ruffly, sparkly little number you made me - oh, well, I just feel like I’m made of latinum! You know what I mean, don’t you? Oh, I’m sure you do, you must have been a stunner back in the day, what with your impeccable sense of style… Oh, there I go again. You must be busy. I’ll end it here.

Take care, Mister Garak, and do remember: I’m just a simple link away should you need anything at all, even a listening ear.  
  


Offering My Sincerest Well Wishes and Warmth,  
Ambassador Lwaxana Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed  
  


* * *

One more remained; Garak heard the first few words coming from Julian Bashir’s mouth and had to stop the playback. It would do him no good to be unadau’kulkna [shamefully sad as if drunk] before the legislative day even began. He transferred Julian’s zaua [transmission] onto a data rod and slipped it into his interior breast pocket. Garak closed his eyes, took one deep breath, held it as he counted to nine, then exhaled, stood, and made his way from his office to the working headquarters of the Detapa Council. Cardassia’s problems would wait for nothing, certainly not his ridiculous luma’lei [fantasy of the void] that the Doctor would one day join him, stroll with him through the streets of Kardasi’Or, through the markets, nibbling on pipu’I [muffins] and garma rolls, arguing melodically before accompanying him… where? Here? To the destroyed Legislative Monument? His tiny flat half full of decades-old furniture, where the lights were off for nine hours a day? The once-bustling market plazas were now full of desperate Cardassians scrounging for food and basic resources? No. He did not wish for Julian to see him (or his once-proud Cardassia) like this.  
  
Garak was distracted by such frivolous thoughts, and bumped into Professor Natima Lang as they both attempted to squeeze through the narrow door into the chambers.  
  
“I humbly ask that you excuse my graceless entrance, Professor. I suspect my eyes are also in need of a shed.”  
  
Professor Lang shook her head and pointed to a bright purple stain on her grey dinina [dress.] “Garak, I do not remember the last time I slept, and this is how my morning started. Bara root tea down the front of me, for the entire Council to view.”  
  
Garak smiled at the absurdity of the situation. He took his seat next to Professor Lang and slowly lifted up the corner of his pinned-on tapestry. “Ripped the only mi’nila I have with me on this planet as I prepared for another marathon day of pa’ta’hohna ra’kúna’i **[** pounding the stones*]. I apologize; it’s rude to do so, but I think I have already outperformed you.”  
  
Professor Lang laughed, and Garak couldn’t help but chuckle as the rest of the legislative members filed into their seats. He scanned the room and – yes, it seemed everyone was here.  
  
“Itozeý maelin,” Garak said, breathing some lilt into his exhausted voice, and a murmured chorus of mirrored salutations bounced back at him. He looked around the room at the sunken eyes and tired faces of his fellow Cardassians, and lifted his lips into a smile.  
  
“Well then. If no one objects, I suggest we officially call this session to order.” Garak passed the eĵzem’aŕ [gavel] to the highest ranking member of the Council, and with the clack of it against the stone table, the hard work of repairing Cardassia resumed.


	2. Circumstances of Surprise

Joining is a sacred process, this much is well known already of the history between our species. But in the sacred existence we share, therein dwells the unexpected. What then, of the Trill and Symbiont who must be Joined under circumstances of surprise? Of sorrow? We know not what circumstances might befall us. There are many accounts of expertly trained Trill who experience significant distress despite their preparation, as well as Trill deemed ‘inferior’ candidates for Joining who ease into their new life without difficulty. When it comes to Joining, we must never allow ourselves the arrogance of assumption about the past, present, or especially the future! Each Symbiont is an individual, each Trill is an individual, therefore we must follow this knowledge to its only logical conclusion, that each Joining is a unique journey for both beings.  
  
-from “On Joining,” 5th Century Tenara Era Trill/Symbiont text

* * *

Transmission from: Rixx, Betazed, Beta Veldonna System  
Received: 16:08  
Counselor Ezri Dax  
Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System

Warmest Greetings Counselor Dax,  
  
We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into the Fellowship of Empathy at the Institute for Harmonious Understanding here in Rixx. The people of Betazed welcome all who wish to study our transformative methods of communication. We have never been so blessed as to have a joined Trill share their experiences with us!  
  
Should you choose to become a Fellow, the program begins on the 7th day of the month of Galaxom; we expect all Fellows to arrive three days beforehand at minimum, so there is adequate time to settle into quarters, and do some exploring of our beautiful planet before studies get into full swing.  
  
Don’t hesitate to contact me directly if you have any questions at all, no matter how small.

We are eager to hear from you!  
  
In Thoughtful Reflection,  
Jassen Laxan  
Admissions Director, Institute for Harmonious Understanding

* * *

Transmission from: Gheryzan, Trill, Trill System  
Received: 18:21  
Counselor Ezri Dax  
Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System

Dear Ezri,

First, I want to thank you for reaching out to me. It is difficult to do, and I am difficult to get a hold of! So I must honor your perseverance. It is true, I am officially retired from working with the Symbiosis Institute. Well, I didn’t really work for them, or even necessarily with them, I was more of a consultant – wait, would that be the most accurate way to describe it? I’m not [unintelligible] – Ah, but I digress.  
  
The direct answer to your question is technically no, I am not still “working” with those experiencing difficulties relating to their Joining or in integrating their Symbionts, but the answer that lives inside me is that I would be happy, if not honored, to spend time with you. My first preference would be that you come to Trill, to me in Gheryzan, and plan to stay a week or so, and then? Perhaps we would see how it felt for you to allow yourself that time. However, I am aware that you are currently stationed in the Bajoran system, therefore I am available to speak with you via whatever comms system you prefer, but I would ask that we speak, face-to-face, in some form, before you make any further decisions about how you will proceed.  
  
I have found my existence as a Joined Trill is a wandering journey of constant surprise. It is humbling yes, wondrous also. There is always space in my humble home and in my life for those in need of a more traditional approach to harmonious coexistence. You let me know when you have a free hour, or two, and I will happily tell you more. Or perhaps I will simply listen to your story. We shall see what treasures our conversation unearths!  
  
In the meantime, be well, and offer yourself the kindness you offer to others.

Elder Sele Betnahn

* * *

Transmission from: Shi’Kahr, Vulcan, Vulcan System  
Received: 07:12  
Counselor Ezri Dax  
Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System

Counselor Dax,

I send this message to extend to you a formal offer of employment on Vulcan. A seven-month instruction position is available at the Secondary Interplanetary Institute. The goal of instruction is to broaden the perspectives of those who are assessing career options in the Diplomatic Arts, Starfleet, and as Federation Liaisons.  
We feel your instruction could offer many benefits to those studying at the Secondary Interplanetary Institute. The position begins in four [Federation] months, and your acceptance or refusal is requested within one month.

Respectfully,  
Sostrik  
Instructive Resources Director  
Secondary Interplanetary Institute,  
Shi’Kahr, Vulcan

* * *

Personal transmission from: Mak’ala, Trill, Trill System  
Received: 07:12

  
Ezri!  
  
You haven’t written me back. What’s going on? Have you had the talk yet? How did it go? What’s the word with the - it was a fellowship right? That you applied to on Earth? Or wait, wasn’t there also one on Betazed? I had a Betazoid boyfriend once. In my opinion, you should go to Betazed… but [laughter] that’s just me.  
  
I promise, it’s really okay if you don’t want to do the trip to the Vantaxian System – I can still get the deposit back until next month. So let’s talk it over. I don’t know, maybe with everything going on, you’d want to stay closer to home? Kalandra’s fine with me. Or even Dara’air, you said you wanted to be someplace warm after being on a station.  
  
Write me back, shi’taxi! Or better yet, hail me! Don’t go disappearing on me, okay? I don’t care what we do, I just need a vacation, working on this dissertation is sucking the life out of my spots.  
  
Hail me, okay?  
  
Drazi

* * *

Personal transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 07:31  
  
Drazi,  
  
Sorry I haven’t written back, I guess you could say I’ve been deep in the caves over here. It feels like I turn around and four days have passed, and I still haven’t written you back or responded to any of my other transmissions and [unintelligible] well, I’m sorry. I’m sort of overwhelmed at the moment. But I have today off? If you’re free? I forget what time it is there.  
  
Ezri

* * *

Personal transmission from: Mak’ala, Trill, Trill System  
Received: 07:35  
  
Something wrong with your comms? I just tried you.

* * *

Personal transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 07:36  
  
No, nothing’s wrong. Give me a minute.  
  


* * *

  
Ezri Dax used her foot to nudge one Julian Bashir, who was asleep in her bed.  
  
“Julian,” she said, nudging a bit harder. “Julian.”  
  
“Mmmmph.” Julian sat up with a start.  
  
“It’s nearly 0745, you’re going to be late for your shift.”  
  
“Ah, up then,” Julian stumbled out of bed, jamming his toe on the way and taking half the sheet with him, “Up then, I’m up.” He stood, wiped his eyes, and swayed so severely Ezri leapt up and instinctively threw an arm in between him and the sharp corner of the nightstand. Julian let out a deep groan, followed by some sort of shouting yawn as he stretched his arms up over his head.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
“Mm, I’m fine, just-“ Julian bumped into the kitchen table, “-just not quite awake yet is all.”  
  
“Probably a good idea to get awake.”  
  
“Would you mind replicating a, um, a standard issue overindulgence hypo for me?”  
  
“A – what?”  
  
Julian looked away and Ezri realized what he meant: a standard issue therapeutic for hangovers, specifically, a medication that Starfleet kept rather close tabs on. She tightened the sash of her pink and turquoise floral robe and padded towards the replicator.  
  
“Computer, one standard arctemerol hypospray.” Ezri watched the hypo materialize and turned to Julian, watching as though it were someone else’s hand passing it off.  
  
“Thank you.” Julian kissed her on the forehead and pressed the hypo to his neck. He groaned again, then headed into the bathroom without a word. Ezri slipped on her favorite day-off pants and tidied up her table during the brief time that Julian was in the shower. He emerged in a cloud of steam, smelling suspiciously of Trill rainforest spot flower.  
  
“Feeling better?”  
  
“Yes. Yes.” Julian avoided her gaze. “I um, I suppose I overdid it a little last night.”  
  
Ezri already knew that he knew this, and so she chose to smile and hug him instead of trying to find something to say. She felt something prickly against her skin, and looked up at Julian’s face, which was covered with a few days of visible stubble.  
  
“Ah, yes. Starfleet regulations. Don’t worry. The sonic hair removal in the infirmary is faster than my personal one.” He turned and began dressing, and as Ezri watched the graceful lines of his back as he stepped into his trousers, the multitude of uncertainties she was holding back rose up again like the tendrils of the symbionts in the pools of the Caves of Mak’ala.  
  
“You’ve got the day off, right?”  
  
“Yes. Finally.”  
  
“Good.” Julian was fully dressed now, looking put together, as always. He didn’t look like a man who’d made a scene at Quark’s by downing an entire flask of a Lurian spirit colloquially known as ‘nerve-chewer.’ And he certainly didn’t look like he’d spent hours leaning against Ezri’s bed while granting passage from brain to lips of his every thought, no matter how nonsensical or maudlin.  
  
“I think I can get out of the infirmary a bit earlier today, probably before dinner,” Julian hugged Ezri, “if you’d want to hit the holosuite later on. Maybe we could try that Eastern Trill cloud forest hike again?”  
  
“Let me see how I’m feeling in the afternoon,” Ezri hedged, unable to outright reject his considerate request. Confounding and maddening as he could be, no one could ever say Julian Bashir wasn’t sincere.  
  
“I will check in on you once things are wrapping up.” Julian flashed his brilliant smile and departed for work.  
  
And then Ezri was alone, and she breathed in the welcome solitude for a few seconds. Just as she was starting to get used to the silence, the voices that swirled around her at all hours of the day, ceasing only when she was asleep. Ezri brought one hand up to the top of her stomach, and placed the other one at the small of her back, palm out. “Computer, play Trill Joining Meditation, Book two, Meditation four.”

  
  
“I breathe in, and I breathe out.

With each breath, I ground myself in the present moment.

Inside me, I carry the memories of many.

Yes, I must share the resources of my body with my Symbiont, but each breath is mine, and mine alone.

As I breathe in, I am reminded that I exist, in this body, as a separate entity.

I hold the breath inside me as I hold the experiences of others.

I breathe out, and I release all expectations of myself.

I breathe in, and I recognize the contradictory nature of life itself.

I breathe out, and I allow myself reflection without judgment.

I breathe in, and I breathe out.

  
  
  
The brief meditation helped to turn down the volume on the tangled mess of Ezri’s emotions, but she desperately needed more. By this point, she had long accepted that she wasn’t going to be able to do a “proper” process, but the stresses of the past year, combined with the experience of her traumatic Joining, had pushed her to a critical point. She had tried working on it by herself for too long. Ezri needed help.  
  
“One Trill ika tea,” she said to the replicator. The minute the mug was in her hands, she remembered that Curzon wasn’t too fond of it. Would sharing this body with all these memories this ever stop being so confusing? Probably not. But on her first day off in two weeks, she was going to have the damn ika tea.

* * *

Personal transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 08:21  
  
Okay, try me again.

* * *

Ezri’s comm line beeped a few minutes later, and she answered it immediately. She took in the sight of her oldest friend, Drazi, with her trademark crooked smile and her short coiled electric pink curls, and the anxious pit in her stomach that had lingered since her last-minute joining up and disappeared.  
  
“Hi! Wow, is it good to see you!”  
  
“Drazi. Oh,” Ezri laughed and mirrored her friend’s exuberant body language, cupping her cheeks with her hands and grinning wildly as Drazi was doing.  
  
“Well, you certainly don’t look like you were in a war zone for several months!”  
  
Ezri shrugged. “I guess that’s good. How are you doing?”  
  
Drazi let out an exasperated sigh and ran her fingernails into the start of her hairline, then grabbed a curl, and began twisting it around her fingers; an old nervous habit she’d had as long as Ezri had known her. “I mean, everything is fine, really. I’m not done with the dissertation yet, but I’m only expected to work on it for one more week and then, you know, it’s Summer Festival time. Other than that, nothing.”  
  
“How’s the-“  
  
“No, no, no, Ezri, this update is about you, shi’taxi, what is going on? Tell me everything.”  
  
Ezri pursed her lips together and clasped her hands in her lap.  
  
“Oh, so you didn’t do it yet, did you?”  
  
‘No, I just,” Ezri tilted her head back and forth, “it’s hard to explain, it’s like – I have all these memories now, right-“  
  
“Because of the Symbiont.”  
  
“Yeah, and I remember saying and doing things I didn’t say and do, and I just – at certain times I can’t tell who it is in here. I thought it was bad enough when it came to food and stuff, but – well, the truth of it is,” Ezri let out a groan of frustration.  
  
“You know there are serious consequences, when someone isn’t ready for a joining.”  
  
“I know that, I mean, I thought I knew what they meant, but…” Ezri trailed off; the same nervous energy returned to her stomach, and she felt a wave of homesickness so intense it made her mouth go dry.  
  
“I’ve been worried about you,” Drazi said, sincerely and seriously. “I am worried about you.”  
  
“You don’t need to worry-“  
  
“Well, it’s too late, I’m already there. I think you need to come home.” Drazi said it firmly, with the exact inflection Ezri needed to hear, and her guilt about the desires she’d been hiding from everyone, including herself, finally started to recede.  
  
“I think you’re right,” Ezri said quietly.  
  
Drazi watched as her oldest friend started to cry, silently. “Oh, sweet, I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s not that I-“  
  
“It’s not – it’s not your fault.” Ezri wiped her eyes in a way that felt unfamiliar to her; she realized it was a muscle memory of Jadzia’s coming to the surface. “It’s just been a lot.”  
  
“So much has happened to you in the past year, Ezri, it was more than I could have handled. More than nearly anyone would have been able to handle.”  
  
“Computer, replicate tissues.” Ezri stood and fetched the pack of tissues from the replicator, but didn’t bother hiding her face as she turned back to the transmission.  
.  
“Look at me, I’ve gone and made you cry, and we haven’t even gotten around to talking about our vacation.”  
  
“Oh, oh,” Ezri held up a hand, “we are absolutely taking that vacation.”  
  
“So you’re saying I… shouldn’t ask for my deposit back?”  
  
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”  
  
“Absolutely love this,” Drazi laughed and did a little dance, “I have been waiting for us to go to the Vantaxian system for years.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
“Just talk to him, Ezri. Just do it.”  
  
Ezri averted her eyes from the transmission. “How do you do that?"  
  
“I know you, that’s how.”  
  
Ezri put her face in her hands and groaned.  
  
“You know what my mom always used to tell me about having difficult conversations?”  
  
“What did Yana tell you?”  
  
Drazi looked directly at Ezri through the holo. “My mom always said it was like throwing up!”  
  
“It’s like what?”  
  
“No, no, no, hear me out – my mom said that having a tough conversation with someone was just like throwing up, because you know you need to do it, and you feel awful, and you keep feeling more and more awful right up until the moment when you throw up. And of course, that is even worse, right? Because now you’re throwing up, but as soon you get it over with, and I do mean, the actual moment that you’re done, you feel better.”  
  
“Uh, the – oh, Drazi, I can hear your mom saying this.”  
  
“Oh, I know you can! So just go on and get it over with,” Drazi said with a graceful wave of her hand.  
  
“I’m not sure I can argue with that.”  
  
“You can’t, that’s the point.”  
  
Ezri smiled. “Thank you.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For being there for-“  
  
“Ah! Ah! Nope. Nope. No, no, no,” Drazi interrupted, “this is not something you thank me for, it is just a fact, it’s immutable, it simply is.”  
  
“I love you,” Ezri blurted out.  
  
“I love you, too. So when am I going to get to give you the longest hug of your life?”  
  
Ezri sucked in a slow, measured breath, and placed a hand on her chest as she let it out. “Soon,” she finally said.  
  
“How soon?”  
  
“That’s the – well, you will be the first to know.”


	3. Taú’ji bet’Ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta [Letter from The Northern Continent]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is trouble in ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta [the Northern Continent]. A pathogen emerges in the impoverished continent, and the citizens of Indar'Or need help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay you know I could not write a huge post-canon Cardassia fic and not pay respects to Letters from the Northern Continent. *cries* here we go. virus fic, aka the way I deal with my emotions now.

“What ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta [the Northern Continent] lacks in mikca’lek [power/resources,] is greatly overcompensated by the dolãin [strength] and ivet’jú [spirit] and liumený’kai [outspokenness] of its people.”

\- Common refrain among vah’Noda’lúkta [Northerners]

* * *

Indar’Or, Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta  
[City of Indar, Northern Continent]

Yados Zeda was hardly a noteworthy resident of Indar, but he was an honorable citizen; a loving father, and a kind man, who sought to benefit the people of Indar’Or and Cardassia in any way he could.

He was a civil inspector in Indar, the largest city of the Northern Continent. He and his wife Pralla had six children, and the entire family lived in a standard, but lovely, home with Pralla’s parents. Cardassians from the Northern Continent were used to living with few resources, making do, being from the part of the planet with the least arable land and the fewest natural resources.

The orbital bombardment had primarily concentrated on the larger cities and the center of Eheen, with its fertile farmlands. Due to its lack of resources, the Northern Continent was largely spared from the worst of the destruction of the Dominion War, but not from the food shortages, power outages, and certainly not from the tas’lumad kři’zem’drukti [despair of being haunted by death] that now stalked all citizens of Cardassia Prime.

Still, the honorable and resilient citizens of Indar carried on, each taking turns pushing the boulder of reconstruction. Zeda was on his way to grant final review to a project in the market district when he noticed an ache in the lower left side of his back. He pushed through the rest of his day, signing off on a much-needed citizens’ housing for families arriving from areas of Prime. The ache ebbed throughout his trip but was notably more severe by the time he arrived home to his children.

Pralla returned from the lab shortly after Zeda had finished greeting all the children, and went to her enjoined with a loving smile upon her face. “My basking rock, how was the labor of your day?”

“The true labors of my day begin only when I serve my family,” Zeda said. He listened lovingly as Pralla shared the details of her afternoon experiments on soil microbes. They sent the children into the garden to pick fresh ankubai beans to accompany dinner. But the pain in Zeda’s back continued to worsen, and not even the delightful company of his family could ease the pulsing ache in his lower left side. He smiled and followed the conversation all through their evening meal, but Pralla was watching him closely. She soon hurried the children off to their sleeping quarters and returned to Zeda’s side.

“Zeda, you know you cannot hide from me. Tell me, what troubles you?”

“I feel selfish to admit it, but I am in pain,” Zeda said stoically. Pralla fetched some zen’şela [medicine] for pain, and mixed some for Zeda, then followed it up with some of her grandmother’s torsa root broth an hour later, for good measure.

Pralla stayed by Zeda’s side through the night, analyzing data from the soil quality reports she had brought home from work, occasionally running a comforting hand down Zeda’s forehead, rubbing her thumb in circles over his chufa. In the late hours of the night, Zeda stood from the sofa. He was unsteady on his feet, so Pralla followed him to the yirmoka [toilet] and waited outside.

Zeda cried out in pain behind the closed door and Pralla rapped her knuckles sharply against the boko’lõunaý [dark Cardassian wood]. “My baý lansú’ito [steady heartbeat], what pains you?”

“It is shameful,” said Zeda, his voice cracking.

“There is no such thing, I am your enjoined. Six hatchlings you helped me pull from my purse in this very house. Zeda, please, you must tell me what is wrong,” Pralla pleaded.

“I need to… eliminate, and I am unable.”

“And you are in pain?”

“The pain is… becoming less tolerable.”

Pralla opened the door, much to Zeda’s shock. “We must not delay. I must take you to saõuzenok [hospital].”

Zeda clothed himself quickly, and as he washed, he attempted to offer an excuse as to why he could not go to hospital. But even in his pained state, he knew that arguing with his Pralla was an exercise in futility. Her mother, Goke, had a small cart for traveling to and from the markets, and Pralla had it out and packed up before Zeda was able to limp down the three mosaiced stair steps that marked the front door to their home. He was too distracted by pain to notice their arrival at the hospital, a humble green building with one wing blown off.

“Please, help, my enjoined needs assistance,” Pralla called out as she helped Zeda limp into the admissions entrance. A trio of women dressed in clinical forest green and tan greeted them, and immediately helped Zeda onto a wheeled bed.

“You do not need to worry, I am Doctor Giral, a specialist in emergency,” said the tallest of the three doctors. “We will soon know what is causing your enjoined to be in such pain. Soon your family shall be reunited under your roof.” She smiled, and Pralla felt some relief from her worry as she watched the competent hands of the women working in the hospital.

But despite the assurances of Doctor Giral, and all the nurses Pralla met, and then the doctors, more doctors, and more nurses, Zeda was not recovered after four days in hospital.

Other doctors came in; Pralla was not surprised when the gapp’benú’kio [kidney] specialty team was introduced, as Zeda had been having difficulty with elimination. However, she became concerned when the doctors’ and nurses’ face grew dull with worry. Her own back began to ache the way that Zeda’s had in the beginning of his illness, and she did her best to hide it from the hospital staff who were so kind and attentive, but mostly from herself.

But the next day, Pralla, too, was in pain, hunched over, and unable to eliminate. She flagged down a nurse, told her of her symptoms, and within a few minutes, a bed was brought in to Zeda’s room and pushed beside him where he lay, connected to all the tubes and wires. There was hardly any room at the hospital to start with, and when the rationed power went off, machines could be used on two patients at once provided they were together. The nurse politely explained all this to Pralla when she began to apologize for being a bother, for making too many demands during such a difficult time. She laid Pralla down and routed an intravenous line into her per dan’i’tola [shoulder vein], just under her right ridge.

“Thuza, fuşakt zek’neirú [Please, try to sleep]. My name is Pintoll, we will do everything we can to enable your rapid and complete healing.”

Pralla was exhausted from the cycles of pain that had been rolling through her body for the past week, and was grateful for whatever zen’şela in the line that enabled her to relax. “I thank you,” she offered feebly before slipping into sleep.

The next day, Doctor Kiltik Giral was pacing the halls, her frustration palpable to her entire team.

“I fail – I am failing to understand, I do not understand,” Giral kept repeating to herself, growing more and more distraught as both her patients did not respond to the multitude of tactics she and her team were throwing at what should have been a mild impairment of kidney function.

“These patients were in the same household, eating the same foods. But were they exposed to the same elements? Have they been walking through the city, through areas of bombardment?” Giral was throwing spears at the problem, attempting to pierce the issue. It refused to break.

“Unless I am mistaken, the patient in room two was not a household contact of the patients in room four.” Nurse Pintoll was leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed.

“There is another?” Giral turned to Pintoll, then stood. “There is another?”

“Yes…?” Pintoll said hesitantly. “Have I committed an error?”

“No, Pintoll you have not – I simply-“ A sudden bout of fatigue hit her from the long days in hospital, and Giral sat back down at her chair. “May I please see the patient’s file?”

Pintoll handed her the medical reader. Doctor Giral quickly scanned it and then ran a hand over her eyebrow ridges. “It has been a very long six days-“

“Doctor, we have been treating these patients for nine days now.”

Giral sighed. “I stand corrected. Allow me to clarify my disordered thoughts, Nurse Pintoll. I am in confusion as to how this patient is now receiving intravenous electrolytes, when it is indicated here in the file, the patient entered into Saõu’se'Indar [Indar hospital, abbreviated] four days ago, and the primary condition was an immature egg sac that had detached from the nub’lag [uterine wall], which would not – this condition would not require such treatment.” Doctor Giral handed the file back to Pintoll. “Could you please verify this information for me?”

“This is the correct information, the patient entered four days ago because of a detached egg sac. And now, the patient is suffering from the same symptoms as the couple in room four.”

“Right. And the patient is now receiving the same treatment as the couple in room four.”

“Yes, they are receiving intravenous electrolytes, and we are considering adding the anti-fungal you ordered for room four as well.”

“Did she come into contact with either of the patients in room four?”

Nurse Pintoll was silent and reluctant to meet Doctor Giral’s eyes. “Yes,” she said finally.

“Where?”

“The yirmoka [restrooms] on this floor have not been functional, the female patient did not fall ill until her spouse had been here for several days. I observed the female patient using the yirmoka intended for visitors, as did the patient in two, whose file we are observing.”

“Did you see this once, or more than once?”

“As one caregiver, I observed the interaction two times with my own eyes. I cannot say how often, or if, there were other interactions between the two patients.”

“I see.” Giral pursed her lips.

“I wish to share a conjecture, but I – I do not wish to plant seeds of alarm.”

“Please state your conjecture.”

“I postulate that we may be encountering a pathogen of unknown origin.”

Giral felt a pinch in her back. “A transmissible pathogen?”

“It would be the most likely explanation.”

Doctor Giral let out a quiet hiss of frustration. She had worked through multiple rounds of epidemics and outbreaks in the past four solar cycles. She was skilled at her work, but now? With a bombed out, hungry, and defeated Cardassia as her starting point, there was no question that the current conditions on Prime would make anything like this far more difficult to handle.

“Perhaps I speak too quickly,” Pintoll said.

“No, Pintoll. You are a specialist, and excellent at your work. There is not time for you to doubt your insight.”

“If this illness is transmissible, the current conditions on Cardassia Prime are… less than ideal for treating such illness, as well as halting transmission. I believe we should send an arkan’taú to Kardasi’Or and request government assistance as soon as possible.”

Giral looked troubled, and kept her eyes averted while she twirled her taú’lid [stylus, pen] in her hand.

“I would hope that you and I have worked together long enough for you to allow me the basic courtesy of expressing your displeasure with your words,” Pintoll quipped after a few moments of silence.

Giral let the taú’lid fall to the floor. “Pintoll, you know I value your thoughts. I worry for the well-being of Cardassia, troubled as she is. I worry that the leaders in Kardasi’Or may punish us for presenting yet another problem during such difficult times. And, too, I worry that the citizens under our care might not receive what they need.”

“I shall trust your judgment.”

“Call in Doctor Nill. Our first responsibility working in medicine is to protect our citizens.”

Pintoll nodded and left, her shoes clicking quickly across the tile.

Doctor Nill, of zauaú’sedvel [transmissible diseases], arrived within the hour. She was an imposing figure during normal times, and during emergencies, her intensity was unnerving, to put it mildly. She immediately gathered all relevant records and plopped them in a giant stack on a table in the break room. She began flipping through them quickly while demanding ev’ban’mar [‘awake tea’, stimulant beverage] from anyone who asked her a question.

“Oh, spiked sea bells!” Nill jumped up from the table and spilled her orange ev’ban’mar all over the floor. She clomped awkwardly through the admissions room and to the second floor, where there were now four patients suffering the same symptoms. Giral and Pintoll were in the hall, looking over a taapata [tablet] when Doctor Nill grabbed them both by the sleeve.

“We must enact containment on this floor,” Nill said, out of breath, the thick twists of her long black hair askew, the collar of her uniform slightly crooked.

“Doctor Nill, would you mind to explain your reasoning for-“

“No time for anything, no explanation time, at this moment, we must enact containment!” Nill’s eyes were wide and her face pained.

Doctor Nill was not known for being sociable, but she was also not known for exaggeration or dishonesty. Giral nodded.

“Containment on this floor, now,” Pintoll called out to the five other staff members who were on the floor.

“And zum’eja [triage]! It must be outside! Zum’eja,” Nill called out before slipping into a decontamination room.

* * *

The floor’s staff worked quickly to set up a containment field, and also a triage tent outside for new admissions. Doctor Nill pounded out six pages of guidelines for treatment and distributed them to the entire hospital by the end of the day. She advised everyone on a new protocol for protecting medical staff and existing patients.

Nuko’tecú [Supervisor] Lazil was a holdover from the now-defunct Central Command; it was her duty to oversee the functions of the hospital and report to Kardasi’Or as necessary. At the current moment, no one, including Nuko’tecú Lazil, was truly aware of her job duties, but her military training still dictated how she handled situations. Once she received the “Guidelines for Treatment of Potential Novel Pathogen,” she burst into Saõu’se'Indar like a řaga [storm] and demanded to see Doctor Nill.

“I need to have a discussion with you,” Lazil said after walking into the small room where Doctor Nill was working. “At the moment you have no proof that this illness is being caused by a pathogen,” Lazil said firmly.

“Ah, how lovely to see you this dawn, Nuko’tecú [Supervisor]. Yes, you are correct,” Doctor Nill held up her hands, “At the current moment no one in this entire building knows for certain if this is a pathogen-borne illness. But I assume you did not make the journey here just to agree with me.”

“You cannot publicly release such guidelines without proof!”

“What do you wish me to do? My laboratory was destroyed in an orbital bombardment eleven months ago. I am working on outdated equipment and with half staff. What is your suggestion? Or do you come instead with your own novel offer, of assistance?”

Lazil took a deep breath and willed her ridges to cool down. “You know that I am available to assist as needed. I am only concerned about such news causing panic amongst vah’Noda’lúkta, as you call yourselves.”

Doctor Nill got a crazed look in her eyes and came so close to Supervisor Lazil’s face that Nurse Pintoll, who had been eavesdropping from the doorframe, prepared herself for the possibility of breaking up gembaka [hand to hand combat].

“You could be from the Obsidian Order and my response would be the same. If you do not wish these guidelines to circulate amongst those who care for the sick, you will have to kill me yourself. But I, Tekbi Nill, am currently the only zenim se’zauaú’sedvel [Doctor of Transmissible Diseases] on this entire continent, and my loyalty is to the people of Cardassia, and of ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta, who do not deserve to endure more suffering because of our inability to face difficult possibilities or inconvenient truths.”

Lazil’s mouth was hanging open at this point, and she assumed a submissive posture. “Doctor, I believe there has been a misunderstanding between us.”

“I very well believe there has been, and I thank you for pointing it out,” Nill snapped. “We, Cardassia, are not in a position for a pathogen to roam freely over these troubled lands. Do I know it is a pathogen?” Nill held out her hands, flicked her fingers towards herself, begging a response.

“No,” Lazil said quietly.

“Does it act like a pathogen?” Nill pointed at Nurse Pintoll.

“It is a possibility,” Pintoll replied.

“And if it acts like a pathogen-" Nill pounded her fist on the table and the taapata’a [tablets] bounced, "-then it may very well be a pathogen, and if we fail to stop it here, it will roam this land like a flayer and take with it the same amount of flesh.”

“We are deeply concerned about the possibility of a novel transmissible illness and we must take every precaution in this moment,” Pintoll offered diplomatically, which earned her a cutting glare from Doctor Nill.

“And we must send an arkan’taú to Kardasi’Or. And we must do it today,” Nill added.

“An arkan’taú?” Lazil stepped forward. “At what point did this situation become so urgent?”

“We currently have six cases with similar symptoms on the isolation floor, with the possibility of four more being admitted if their electrolytes drop below a certain point,” Pintoll said.

“But you said in your last breaths you cannot be certain this is a transmissible illness. What if the cause is something else? Something related to the bombardment, or even the general conditions on ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta? We know conditions here were worse even before the battles and the bombardment.”

Doctor Nill shook her head. “So far, it behaves as a transmissible disease. And if this is a transmissible disease, by the time it gets any worse, it will already be too late. We must send the arkan’taú in a timely fashion regardless of the lack of confirmed cause. A dust storm is approaching from the west and will likely knock out communications. Again.”

Supervisor Lazil sighed.

“I understand your concerns about sharing unknowns, especially with your background in military service,” Nill said, her tone now gentle, “but as a doctor, my oath is first to the wellness of our people. It would be a far better result to send the arkan’taú, then issue a correction, than it would be to delay informing the Health Ministry of such possibility.”

“Cardassia is poorly equipped for another outbreak,” Pintoll sighed. Lazil knew this well; she had suffered permanent damage from an outbreak of scale spot that happened a few years back.

“Send the arkan’taú,” Lazil said. “I will sign it.”

“What incredible news. However, someone needs to write it,” Doctor Nill said, turning to Nurse Pintoll. Before Pintoll could object, Nill held up a hand. “Please find Nurse Torlem, and meet me in the fourth floor lounge. Torlem and I will analyze the data, so you may find speed in your cutting of the stones*.”

“This is acceptable,” Pintoll said before leaving the room in a whirl.

Nill stood. “I assume there will be consequences for my behavior today, and I am prepared to accept them,” she said, unblinking.

Lazil tilted her head in confusion. “There are no… consequences. Contrary to what you may assume, in this moment, we share the same priorities, Doctor.” Lazil gave a respectful half-bow to Doctor Nill before backing out of the room.

“Curious,” Nill said to herself before pouring another mug of ev’ban’mar and returning to her data analysis.

* * *

Saõuzenok se'Indar [Hospital of Indar]  
Indar’Or, Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta [Northern Continent]

Dazuaný Yirejtarrin mat'Saõun [The Honorable First Minister of Health]  
Kardasi’Or, Lút’eĵkařa Eheen [Eheen Continent]

Maktit maý’drana [Good greetings(formal)] Respected Minister Ghelrell,

In accordance with Deta’dolan’ii [Civil Codes] 738.2 (Health and Well-Being), and 848.2 (Notifications of Illness of Unknown Origin), this arkan’taú is sent to inform of a cluster of illness observed in Indar'Or, Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta.

In the past period of twelve (12) days, a total of sixty-four (64) citizens were treated in Saõuzenok se'Indar for a similar illness, as yet unidentified.

Symptoms included:

Fatigue (~79%)  
Pain in lower left back, above gapp’benú’kio [kidneys] (~74%)  
Difficulty in releasing impurities (~71%)  
Pain in releasing impurities (~66%)  
Mental confusion (~40%)

Outcomes:

Treated as outpatient: 23  
Admitted <5 days: 31  
Admitted >5 days: 15  
Admitted to Sidú’Zenú [Intensive Care]:13  
Deaths: 11

Clinical presentation of the illness ranged from mild (difficulty and pain in releasing impurities, treatable with oral electrolyte rehydration), moderate (treatable with electrolyte infusions, patients admitted to hospital <5 days) to severe (leucocytes < 400/piL, gapp’benú’kio function <30%, confusion, extreme pain, requiring admission to intensive care).

We find some patients progress into severe disease from a mild or moderate state quite rapidly. Once the illness begins progression, deterioration is rapid, typically occurring within hours.

Our doctors and scientists are among the finest on all of Prime, and are tirelessly working to discover the cause, prevention, and therapeutic treatments for this illness.

At the time of this arkan’taú, we do not yet have evidence that this is a transmissible illness, and as such, no further documentation is attached; however, the urgency of the situation demanded the arkan’taú be sent before the question of transmissibility has been resolved. From anecdotal evidence and limited clinical observation, it appears likely that the unknown illness is caused by a transmissible pathogen. Upon request, we can provide tissue samples from the twenty-nine beloved Citizens of Indar'Or who have succumbed to the effects of this as-yet unnamed illness. Sadly, this number of twenty-nine includes three of our own medical staff who bravely cared for those affected.

As all Kardasi citizens, we are on power rations, with the hospital having nine hours per day of low-usage and two hours per day of no-usage. Only one-third of the hospital is currently able to treat patients due to damage sustained during the bombardment.

In order to preserve the life and safety of the treasured, honorable citizens of Indar, we humbly request assistance, if possible, from any civil or military medical personnel as soon as is feasible. However, given the challenging circumstances all Cardassians face on the home planet, we understand if there is a delay in response.

Cuf’yaõun he’azuan [In health and honor],

Ralam Gheinra,  
Zenim se’Gapp’benú’kio [Doctor of Nephrology]

Tekbi Nill,  
Zenim se’Zauaú’Sedvel [Doctor of Transmissible Diseases]

Kiltik Giral,  
Zenim se’Xot’tas’tecú [Doctor of Emergency]

Naka Lazil,  
Nuko’tecú Zençua [Medical Supervisor], Alekba’at [Central Command], Indar’Or

Ili Pintoll, Zenc’iduna’a se’Kúnçu’ake, Gapp’benú’kio  
[Nurse of Specialty, Nephrology]

Ejass Torlem, Zenc’iduna’a se’Kúnçu’ake, Zauaú’Sedvel  
[Nurse of Specialty, Transmissible Diseases]

* * *

Five patients came into Saõu’se'Indar the next day, eleven the day after that, then eighteen, then twenty one. Over the week, the numbers kept bouncing up and down, but the pattern clear; an increasing amount of Caradssians were seeking medical attention for the same symptoms, with the same clinical presentation.

As for Yados Zeda, he was now mostly unconscious, waking for only a few minutes each day, and his beloved Pralla was not far behind. Neither of their conditions were improving, and within days, it got to the point where the eldest son Lujom contacted the hospital and asked to come in, to perform the Shri’tal.

Pintoll asked if the Shri’tal would be allowed for Zeda and Pralla and was shocked by Nill’s answer.

“You should know by now we cannot allow that,” Nill said firmly before donning a protective hood and heading back in to check vitals on a room that now held six patients suffering from the same disease.

Zeda was disoriented, his electrolytes and fluids technically far below the level where one would even be considered living. He bobbed in and out of consciousness like the ħeú’kat [floating fish] drifted from sea to surface, up and down, up and down. The nursing team had him on a line to dull his pain, and thankfully it was working. Doctor Nill was trying to make sense of Zeda’s vital signs when he opened his eyes.

“My enjoined, my Pralla,” he said feebly.

“Your Pralla is right beside you.” Nill wasn’t sure if he could understand, so she took his hand and connected it with Pralla’s. Zeda clasped Pralla’s hand as though it were the only thing that could bring him comfort. Doctor Nill quietly left the room, only to be summoned back moments later as Zeda coded out.

While they were recording Zeda’s time of passing, Pralla, too, followed him into the siy’urakařa [afterlife.]

Doctor Nill waited until she was out of the room to curse under her breath.

* * *

It had now been six days after the medical team at Saõuzenok se'Indar sent their arkan’taú, and there was no response from Kardasi’Or.

Doctor Giral felt the ache in the lower side of her back, along with a slicing knife of fear, cutting as though its goal was to strip her of her scales. She was exhausted, and walked home slowly, stopping along the way to smell a few fragrant ss’lei blossoms before arriving at the humble home she shared with her enjoined, Kol, and their three new hatchlings.

“Kol,” she called out from the walkway. “Kol, please come to the door.”

Kol opened the door and greeted Giral with a grin. “Here I am. The three young ones are as happy to see you as I.”

“Could you prepare a meal for me and leave it at the base of the stairs?”

Kol’s face fell. “What is wrong, my sharp intelligence?”

“I am unwell.”

“You are unwell? Come inside, then, allow me, your enjoined to-"

“I cannot do that, my baý lansú’ito [steady heartbeat].”

“Why do you refuse my help, my beloved enjoined?”

Giral met Kol’s gaze, and at the sight of her enjoined, began to cry, the chunks of salt falling from her eyes onto her chest, dotting the deep forest green of her uniform. “I am afraid there is something transmissible at the hospital, Kol, something dangerous. I must stay away from you and the hatchlings.”

Kol’s ridges went pale, and he searched Giral’s face. “My Kiltik, how serious is this illness?”

“I do not know.” Giral thought about saying more, but she was reminded of an old wartime proverb, ‘To share one’s worries during a time of hardship is to infect the ones you love.’ She met Kol’s eyes with a desperate and terrified look on her face, and Kol grasped the beams of the doorway to steady himself. “I will stay in the stairwell room. You and the hatchlings should be safe.”

Giral isolated herself in the small room below the stairwell. It wasn’t long before she was ill enough to be returned to Saõu’se'Indar, in a bed on the same floor where it had all started. She continued to analyze data from her bed until she lost consciousness. At Giral’s request, Kol did not come to the hospital. On the ninth day of her illness, Giral experienced a brief window of consciousness, and Pintoll seized the opportunity to contact her enjoined.

“I do not know if she is not well enough to respond, but you should speak with her,” Pintoll said solemnly before patching Kol into Giral’s room.

Kol was stoic as he held their three hatchlings in his arms. Giral tried to raise her head and couldn’t; a smile was clearly visible on her face as she let her head fall backwards onto the bed.

“My beloved, I will spend the rest of my days honoring you as I raise and care for our children. They will grow strong, they will be loved as fiercely as I love you, and-“ Kol’s voice broke over his words, and he looked down at the hatchlings in his arms in order to steady himself.

Kol hissed at the hatchlings, and they hissed back, ss’sa, ss’sa, ss’sa, [mama, mama, mama], being the last thing Giral heard before her death.

When Doctor Nill heard the news, she punched a wall hard enough to fracture three bones in her left hand.

* * *

Many more days had passed since their arkan’taú had been sent, and no one in the hastily called meeting could recall exactly how many new patients they had treated for the same illness. Nill had called an impromptu meeting, and all eyes kept wandering to the empty chair last occupied by Doctor Giral.

“So, no one responds to an arkan’taú sending notice of a novel pathogen? Is this the Cardassia we now inhabit? Our ancestors weep.” Doctor Nill was furious, and her ridges had been flushed an inky blue since the maelin [dawn].

Supervisor Lazil had been silent for most of the meeting, and finally spoke. “Perhaps there is a way that I can help,” she said tentatively.

“Do you know someone in Central Command?” Pintoll asked.

“Former-"

“Yes, yes,” Nill cut off Lazil’s correction, “our mistake, we understand Central Command exists no more. However, some of us are old and slow to change. Do we have any more ev’ban’mar?” she grumbled.

“For the sake of honor, make it yourself, Nill,” Pintoll snapped.

“Lazil, can you get a message to Kardasi’Or?” Nurse Torlem asked.

“Perhaps you have a friend, someone with power, who might listen to us humble vah’Noda’lúkta,” Nill pleaded.

Lazil nodded. “I do have such a friend. I do not know if she will be able to offer us assistance, but I will try. Is there a libi’tola [encrypted frequency] from this hospital?”

All the nurses and doctors laughed. “You _are_ a sim’lak [“city girl”]. Nuko’tecú [Supervisor], we are not entrusted with such valuable technology here in ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta,” Nill said.

“However, there is a tol’údanok [personal channel] in the Office of Emergency Services,” Pintoll said. “You may use that. Perhaps it will draw the right type of attention.”

A brief, pained look appeared on Lazil’s face before she followed Nurse Pintoll down the hall to the office that Doctor Giral used to share with the other xot’tas’tecú [emergency] staffers.

* * *

  
Tol’údanok [Personal channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Indar’Or, Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta  
zauaúsi [Received]: 0164.08 // únoõu [night]

Aiyaú’mar madrana [Urgent greetings(formal)]

Doctor Kapala,

My most humble apologies for the zaua [transmission] in the pey’iúmb [star hour, star time*]

I am currently stationed as the Nuko’tecú Zençua [Medical Supervisor] in Indar’Or. Nine days ago, a team from  
Saõuzenok se'Indar [Hospital of Indar] sent an

arkan’taú

to the Honorable First Minister of Health, Ghelrell.

We are dealing with what appears to be an outbreak of a transmissible  
pathogen and request help from the capital city as soon as possible.

Please respond as soon as is feasible.

Naka  
Lazil,  
Nuko’tecú Zençua, Alekba’at [Central Command],

Indar’Or

* * *

In her home in the capital city, Doctor Amzal Kapala was awakened by the sharp screech of an urgent arkan’taú. She was at first confused by the haphazard formatting until she read the name of the sender. Doctor Kapala caught the words “transmissible pathogen” and, hands shaking, made an urgent call to the Minister of Health before even bothering to finish reading.

“The arkan’taú was urgent, I cannot reveal the source, contact the Civil Government immediately, I am putting on a mi’nila as we speak and I will be at the Health Offices within nine minutes.” She hardly remembered what she blurted out to the First Minister of Health, and she hoped any misspoken words would be forgiven as it was, after all, still the pey’iúmb [star hour, star time*].

Kapala pulled on a skirt and stepped into her boots. Her blood was rushing through her ridges as she caught the first part of the code. A snippet here, a small indentation here. She worked quickly on her reader, so she could destroy the zaua afterwards.

She finally encoded the one line:  
 _Still I adore you, my Amzal, I ask that you forgive my absence and await my return._

Doctor Kapala’s heart seized, and instead of destroying the zaua, she slipped it in the secret pocket of the waistband of her skirt before stomping out the door to the Health Offices.

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauaúsi [Received]: 0410.48 // únoõu [night]

Civil Representative Garak,

You do not sleep enough as it is, so I refuse to send anyone to wake you before our planet has rotated into the daylight.

However, when you are awake, make your way to the working Health Offices immediately. There is an ongoing meeting that will require your input in a few hours, regarding an urgent situation in ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta.

Doctor Kelas Parmak  
Undersecretary to the Honorable Minister of Health


	4. Lúkt‘aoşa [Proof of Life]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's check in on Julian Bashir and see how he's handling everything.

It was well into the pey’iúmb [star hour], and Castellan Erak was working in his upstairs office at the taäm’arkan [official residence]. It seemed as though the arkan’taú and the troubles they represented continued to multiply of their own accord. From his desk, Erak heard a vala’efú [sound of something flying] through his window, and then a series of small thumps.

The Castellan at first was shocked, until he realized what had been tossed into his office; a small, flat kúna [stone], of the type that was used long ago as the main form of written communication.

Carved upon the rock were two words in the tebiji [block letter] Kardasi of old:  
aoşa [test] and lúkt [live].

Erak knew exactly who dared to throw a kúna through the open window of the Castellan’s working office. He leapt to the sill and nearly knocked his stack of torva’taúi [documents] to the ground in the process.

“Doctor Trilmet,” Erak called out to the empty garden below. He searched for the Doctor, but saw only the shadows of the night and the giant rustling leaves of the dom’tola et’ta [map palm].

“It is not necessary that we speak!” a lively voice responded from afar. Castellan Erak was too late; Doctor Trilmet was already walking back towards the Imperial District. “You have answered the reason for my kúna’efú teneka'palen [check-in]. You have provided lúkt‘aoşa [proof of life]. My impatience overtook my good senses, I must apologize for my imposition.”

“You owe me no apology!” Erak said. “It is I who have neglected our correspondence, Doctor, I ask that you might pardon my melefúai [forgetfulness] during this time.”

“Surely you know the kú’danoki [notes] of Cardassia are far more important than my fen’taúi [scribbles].” Doctor Trilmet’s voice grew more distant with her every step, and the Castellan felt his ivet’jep [internal light] fade as she retreated into the night.

Castellan Erak failed to find his words in time, and his chest was seized with tola’tani’hojaú [the pain and embarrassment of missed opportunity]. Erak removed his sight helpers and rubbed the ridges over his eyes. He brushed his fingers over the many kú’danoki from Doctor Trilmet, kú’danoki to which he had not responded.

How to explain to Doctor Trilmet that that her dispatches occupied all corners of his mind, that he had been too busy savoring her every sentence to send a duřúsiý [reply]?

Erak placed the kúna on his desk and began tapping on his taapata [tablet].

“My Esteemed Doctor Trilmet, your words upon the stones have offered me such comfort that I have receded into it, if not disappeared completely. In these days of trouble, I could not find a response worthy of your itoý’ketú dazuaný [honorable encouragement], but I offer you a promise: never again will I give you cause to seek my lúkt‘aoşa [proof of life].”

The Castellan sent the message to the Doctor before he could be ensnared by núku’zemý [a continuous loop of hesitation], and returned his attentions to the many torva’taúi and arkan’taú that required his input.

\- Service Is The Only Virtue

* * *

Personal Transmission from: Seattle, Earth, Sol System  
Received: 0419.27  
Doctor Julian Bashir  
Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System

Julian!

How are you doing? Goodness, I didn’t – I’m sorry I haven’t written back to your past few messages – the kids just started school a few weeks ago, and well, you know how it goes around here.

All the plants look great, I think you might have a green thumb! I see lots of new growth on those dendrobium canes, the flowers will come on the new canes, not the old ones, and also, that Bajoran elara vine has really filled out! The flowers on that are so lovely, they’re like a nice peachy pink. Thank you for taking care of what I left behind. It’s silly, I know. I’ve already got so many plants in our new house, you should see it, Miles is going to have to build me another greenhouse – but it makes me happy to know all the babies I had to leave on DS9 are in such caring and, I must say, such skilled hands!

So the Kardasi mint, looks to me like it’s been overwatered a bit. Maybe skip next week’s watering and see how it does. But it should be fine. May also be good to add a bit of calcium and sodium to the water if you can, if you go through the settings on one of my PADDs somewhere you should find a replicator code for it. Cardassian plants can put up with a lot of [laughter] abuse is the best way to put it, I suppose.

Miles is enjoying his teaching position so far, I think he will settle into it nicely. Give him a call sometime soon though, will you? He’s been moping around all week. I think he’d really enjoy hearing from you.

We miss you! Let me know when I can schedule some face-to-face time with the kids. Molly keeps asking about Uncle Julian.

Keiko O’Brien  
Director, Federation Alliance of Botanists

* * *

Encypted transmission from: Starfleet Medical Supervisor, Starbase 211, Bajoran/Cardassian Sectors  
Received: 1149.11  
Doctor Julian Bashir  
Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System

URGENT  
Attn: Doctor Julian Bashir  
CC: Doctor Ama Kvall

Doctor Bashir,

It has come to my attention that you recently took an unplanned leave for two days in which you left your post and did not inform either a supervisor, or even a coworker, of your plans or your location.

I am a bit shocked that someone with your experience and service record would engage in such behavior. Please respond to this transmission ASAP to schedule your disciplinary meeting with myself and Doctor Kvall (cc’d).

Doctor Leana Reynolds  
Starfleet Medical Supervisor, Bajoran/Cardassian Sectors

* * *

Personal Transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 1037.06

Garak,

I had the strangest dream the other night. I don’t even know how to explain it. Closed my eyes, and it was as if I woke up in the fishing town of Akla. It was straight from the story of Upon These Humble Shores. Everything was there, the markets, the fishing ships, all of it. This beautiful music was playing, of course I can’t say for sure if that part was exactly like the book, but it was haunting. The sounds were all around me, some sounded like little bells, the beats of low drums, and the melodies were being played on an instrument that looked like a guitar made of stone. It was the strangest thing. It really stayed with me, you know? Right before I woke up, it was – I could almost taste the red dust of Cardassia in my mouth. And [unintelligible] I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this, so I’ll end it. I’m not even sure if you’re getting these, but I suppose I’ll send it regardless. Nothing is bouncing back, so [unintelligible] I guess I will assume these are making their way to Kardasi’Or just fine. Or perhaps they’re all jammed up somewhere, and you’ll receive oh, I don’t know, a couple dozen transmissions from me all at once. And then, you’d have to spend hours, maybe even days on end listening to them! What a punishment that would be for you. I shudder to think of the possibility. And on that, I will close. As always, I hope this finds you well.

Julian

* * *

Personal Transmission from: Seattle, Earth, Sol System  
Received: 0419.37

Julian,

Couldn’t catch all of your last message there, think you might have sent it to me late at night. Sounds like you’ve been spending a lot of time at Quark’s lately [laughter] I sure hope he’s given you at least a few free hours in the holosuites. As for things here, they’re keeping on, about the same as always. The kids love their new school, it’s right down the street from the new place. Keiko loves her job, which is just – yeah honey? Okay, I’ll – I’m just about [unintelligible] – anyways, sorry, Julian, someone found a toad inside the house – what was I saying. What was I saying? Oh, right, Keiko’s new job. She loves it. And you know what they say. Um, but yeah. I’m sorry I missed you the other night. The time difference is pretty wild, right? I’m around – our spring break starts in a few days. Maybe we can catch up then. At least I hope so. I hope you’re taking care of yourself there, Julian, we miss you, and [unintelligible] be good to talk with you soon.

Miles O’Brien  
Instructor of Engineering  
Starfleet Academy Extension  
Seattle, Washington, Earth

* * *

Standard Transmission from: Nykalia, Tepla 1, Teplan System  
Received: 1636.02  
Doctor Julian Bashir  
Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System

Doctor Bashir,

I was informed by Doctor Selvik that you had already been contacted about this, so I ask that you forgive my redundancy. I suppose I couldn’t wait any longer for a response.

As you know, Doctor Selvik and Doctor Shamacha of the Federation are coming to the Teplan system to observe the progress made in combatting the blight. Since your last visit to Nykalia, we have enacted an aggressive vaccination program, reaching a 92% vaccination rate as of last rotation cycle. And thanks to your most recent research, we have been able to synthesize another treatment regimen for the blight, which has proven even more effective at repressing the quickening, and does not provoke some of the side effects that were reported amongst a small percentage of the population. Thank you again, Doctor Bashir, for continuing to offer us your help. Without it, I likely would have succumbed to the blight long ago. I am grateful to spend every moment of my remaining days working to free my people from this disease.

I understand that spending three years on our planet might be a difficult ask for you, so I wanted to reach out personally to let you know that we of Nykalia would be grateful for any length of time you could offer. They built a statue of you in the central square, you know. Did you know that? Our comms have been going in and out because of plasma storms, but I will send visual evidence when I am able.

I think of you often, Doctor Bashir, and I again voice my gratitude for your work for my people. As you are a celebrated Starfleet doctor and scientist, I am aware your time is precious, and I will not take any offense should you be unable to return to Tepla 1 at this time. Whenever you are able to come back, my people will be here, waiting to celebrate.

With Respect and Gratitude,  
Healer Trevean  
Nykalia Center for Blight Eradication

* * *

Personal Transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 0402.76

Garak,

Two Cardassian scientists stopped onto Deep Space Nine this week, they were on their way home from a conference held at Starbase 172. I got a chance to speak with Oyil and Prizar briefly, although they were rather stunned at first. Think I scared the daylights out of them, if I’m being honest. I was at the replimat when I saw them, just left my food behind and ran right after them. They looked at me like I had, I don’t know, like I’d sprouted wings or something. I asked if they had any news from the surface, and they were vague. Then I asked about the wellbeing of a Civil Representative Garak, and that’s when the conversation began to turn. All smiles, and “how lovely to meet a Federaji with more than a passing interest in our planet.” I offered to treat them at Quark’s and they agreed. Probably out of pity, but it didn’t much matter to me. I didn’t realize Cardassia’s Federation membership process was moving forward on such a fast track. Surely that’s a good thing, if – well, actually, you probably, no [unintelligible] I’m certain you can’t tell me anything about that, which is fine. It was all hearsay, neither scientist would offer me any details. Old habits die hard, at least that’s what we say on Earth. By the end of the conversation we were discussing Upon These Humble Shores. And I must say, they were impressed a ‘Federaji’ had read even part of it. Can you believe that? I managed to [laughter] impress them. But don’t worry, Garak, I wouldn’t dare to argue with them. I did my best to follow all the cultural cues, but there is only one Cardassian I will trade barbs with over a meal. I was glad to receive news from them. Oh, that’s [unintelligible] sounds rather passive aggressive, doesn’t it? Well, it’s not intended to be. I understand. From the one sentence Prizar offered me, it sounds – again, I suspected this to be the truth – that you are incredibly busy, that you’ve got your work cut out for you. Do you remember the day in your shop when I tried to explain that phrase to you? I thought you were out [laughter] honestly trying to trick me that afternoon. But it sounds your work is indeed cut out for you, and again, I hope you are doing well and that this transmission finds you healthy and well.

Julian

* * *

Encypted transmission from: Starfleet Medical Supervisor, Bajoran/Cardassian Sectors  
Received: 1149.77  
Doctor Julian Bashir  
Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System

Attn: Doctor Julian Bashir  
CC: Doctor Ama Kvall

Doctor Bashir,

As discussed in our meeting, there will be a note in your permanent file, along with a demerit for abdication of duty. Since this is the first demerit on your file, Doctor Kvall and I will be taking no further disciplinary actions at this time. I do not wish to have a discussion like this again.

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

Doctor Leana Reynolds  
Starbase 211  
Starfleet Medical Supervisor, Bajoran/Cardassian Sectors

* * *

Personal Transmission from: Southend-on-Sea, England, Earth  
Received: 0419.18

Hello Julian,

My sweet boy. Thank you so much for the tulips. They always were my favorite. When you were small, you loved them too, do you remember? We used to walk to the garden at the end of the road there, and every spring, there they were, the tulips pushing their way up. Before they bloomed, you would always ask “when yellow? When yellow, mama?” because the yellow ones, those were the ones you loved most. Do you remember, Julian? You used to take my hand and try to get me to walk with you through the tulips. But I was too big to fit in between the flowers, so I would hold your hand as you would walk and twirl in between the tulips. You were such a sweet boy. You still are. Thank you. They look so pretty in the kitchen. I tried to call you, but you did not answer. Maybe you can call me soon. I would love to see your face, to talk to you. I miss you, I hope you are doing okay. You make me worry when you don’t call. Maybe you can call me, maybe tomorrow? Or this week. I know you are working. But try to call me. Or tell me when I can call you. I love you, Julian

Mama

* * *

Computer, record transmission. Well, Garak, I finally did it. I finally opened up the bottle of kanar you gave me for my birthday two years ago. It [unintelligible] if I’m honest, it tastes like sh – it tastes nothing like sour cherry. Or grappa. Or Bajoran mkaar, or anything else you told me it tasted like. You swore it tasted like sour cherry, my god, Garak, have you ever had a sour cherry? But [unintelligible] sure is strong, that’s for sure. However, I imagine the taste would be far less bitter if I was sharing it with you, I’m sure you would offer some wit [unintelligible] take the sharpness off. I miss your conversation over a nice, long lunch, but, I know, I know. Cardassia needs you. And I [unintelligible] oh, shit. How did that bloody – Computer, replicate two towels. Until then, I will keep sending these silly things – unless of course, you don’t want me to send them anymore, then I would, obviously, stop – so, um. Why don’t you tell me one way or the other? I don’t want to bother you if you don’t wish to be bothered. I imagine your time is in high demand and you must be terribly busy. I don’t mean to use you – Computer, strike that – to use these conversations – as a diary or anything so ridiculous [laughter] I simply miss talking with you. I did finally finish Journey Across the Seven Deserts, I’ve been meaning to thank you for that, I found it a refreshing change of pace from The Never-Ending Sacrifice, which I did reread after our last conversation, which as I [unintelligible] just so long ago. I miss you. Computer, send transmission. Wait, Computer, _end_ transmission, end transmission, end transmission.

Transmission sent: 0238.12

* * *

The next morning, Julian woke up with yet another pounding headache; an unfortunate circumstance for many reasons, including the fact that he was in his own quarters and couldn’t risk replicating yet another arctemerol hypo for himself. Instead, he asked the replicator for a fry up, and his old uni trick continued its track record of effectiveness. After an extremely hot shower, Julian felt halfway human. He made it to the infirmary just in time to deliver Commander Shalinak’s triplets. The rest of his day alternated between mild normal activity and mind-numbing boredom; Julian’s headache was gone, but he didn’t feel well enough to resume work on any of his projects, choosing instead to mope about, complain to anyone who would listen, and count the minutes until he could leave.

Julian went back to his quarters in the afternoon and tried Ezri before realizing it was a Wednesday and she was in session until the evening. He tried to read and couldn’t, he tried to tidy up and couldn’t. After pinging around his quarters anxiously for an hour, he decided to head to the holosuites for a while.

* * *

“Come on now, you know I hate to ask such good customers to leave, but I promise we’ll all see each other soon enough. Time for you boys to head out.” Quark shook the hands of the three Gamma quadrant aliens who had been in his bar until closing the last four nights in a row. Couldn’t remember for the life of him what they called themselves; didn’t matter as long as they paid their tab. They were quite intoxicated, but not belligerent, and they drained their springwine and left in good spirits. Quark rushed to lock up and then started his usual closing routine.

“Computer, begin holosuite shutdown sequence.”

“Unable to comply.”

Quark set down his sonic sterilizer and walked closer to the console. “Why not?”

“Holosuite six is still in use.”

“Dammit, he’s still fucking in there, isn’t he?” Quark muttered to himself as he stomped out from behind the bar.

He heard the racket coming from the holosuite long before he approached the end of the corridor; Julian sure had it turned up tonight. With a few bypass codes, Quark opened the door, and as he expected, Doctor Julian Bashir didn’t even notice.

Julian was back in his underground fighting holoprogram; the air was thick with simulated cigarette smoke and the ceiling was low enough to make Quark feel mildly claustrophobic. A large crowd was cheering wildly as Julian ducked one jab, then another from a fighter nearly twice his size; a half-Klingon Maquis, from the looks of it. Quark watched as Julian took a nasty hit to his jaw and landed on the coarse ropes that surrounded the ring. He noticed a cut at the corner of Julian’s mouth, and honestly didn’t know if he was more worried or furious. Either way, he wasn’t about to let this continue.

“Computer, end program.” The fighter, the ring, and the crowd disappeared, leaving only Julian, shirtless, covered in sweat, his knuckles wrapped with tape and dirty cloth.

Julian turned to Quark with fury in his eyes. “Quark, what the hell do you think you’re doing in here? This is supposed to be a private space and I’ve-“

“What the hell am I doing? What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Quark was furious. “You think I’m dumb enough not to notice you in here for the past two weeks, overstaying your time while I count the profit at the end of the night?”

“I haven’t been-“

“Oh, fuck off, Julian, I’ve known you’ve had the safeties off for days now. You might be genetically enhanced, but you’re not nearly as slick as you think you are. Here’s a tip: next time steal one of the wrenches from behind the bar instead of using whatever you’re prying them open with. You’re wrecking my panels.”

“It’s none of your business whether I turn the safeties off or not!” Julian roared.

“It is when you’re bleeding all over my holosuite! Get the hell out, you idiot!”

“Quark, you bastard scammer of a Ferengi, I was-“ Julian lunged and was on him before he could retreat from the holosuite and call for help. “-I am, in case you haven’t noticed, trying to blow off some steam in here, you had no right to come and-“

Quark kicked Julian in the shin and was finally able to twist out of his grip. “Come in and what? And what, Julian? Stopping you from pummeling yourself to shreds in here?”

Julian scoffed. “I am not going to harm myself, that’s not why I took the safeties off.”

“Not gonna hurt yourself, are you? Then explain why you’re bleeding all over my holosuite? You think I wanna clean that up?”

Julian looked down to see his arms covered in shallow cuts from the fight and being tossed up against the ropes. “I-“

“You what? Did you resign from Starfleet?”

“No, I didn’t resign,” Julian responded, confused.

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t resign, and if my knowledge of all your Federation bullshit is still accurate, you’re still this station’s Chief Medical Officer, aren’t you?”

Julian pursed his lips, crossed his arms. “Yes.”

“Yes. Yes you are. You think this station can do without you, in the wake of everything that’s been happening in the past year? Do you?”

Julian was silent.

“So get the hell out of my holosuite, get yourself patched up, and don’t come back here until whatever’s bouncing around in your shriveled up hew-mon brain has bounced right on out. You understand me?”

Julian nodded.

“I’m not gonna come in here and clean up after you cutting yourself up anymore. Try it again and, and – well, you won’t like what happens. Trust me.”

Behind Quark’s empty threat, Julian heard the concern, loud and clear; part of him wanted to thank him, but his pride won out. He pushed past Quark with a grunt and headed straight for the infirmary. The cuts on his arms were stinging and angry by the time he went inside his office and enabled the privacy codes behind him.

Julian sat down and forced himself to take a few deep breaths before tending to his wounds. He ran a dermal regenerator over his right arm in long strokes, then switched sides and repeated the motion. By the time his skin was healed, his mind had calmed enough to wrap itself around something other than the rush of adrenaline. He replicated himself a hypospray for insomnia and pressed it to his neck. He had time for a quick sonic shower before the drugs kicked in. Moments after getting into bed, he surrendered to sleep.

* * *

Personal Transmission from: Seattle, Earth, Sol System  
Received: 0249.90

Julian, yeah, hey there, buddy, I’m just checking in on you again, because [unintelligible] well, it’s been a while and I haven’t heard anything from you. You all right over there? Keiko and me, we miss you, the kids miss you too. Can you just write me back, something? Anything. You should hear what Keiko [unintelligible] she says “Julian, we demand proof of life!” She wanted me to say that, so, um, okay. Miss you, my friend.

Miles O’Brien  
Instructor of Engineering  
Starfleet Academy Extension  
Seattle, Washington, Earth

* * *

Julian’s next day was a repeat of the last, as pretty much all his days had been since the end of the war. He worked out in the morning for a few hours, and that helped to shake loose some excess energy before his evening shift. Work was like watching paint dry, but he was able to focus enough to be able to review some of Trelean’s most recent data from Nykalia. He cajoled Ezri into meeting him for dinner at the new Bajoran farm-to-table restaurant, and before he knew it, he was loosened up and feeling good, thanks to a generous intake of Bajoran cave stout. And as dinner wound itself down, Julian descended into a sloppy state of drunkenness that was far too familiar to Ezri.

“Let’s go to the holosuites,” Julian whispered loudly as Ezri finished up her sha’oolau sundae.

“Hmm.” Ezri always ate her desserts with such delicacy and discipline; one savored, measured bite at a time. “I think I’m going to head back to my quarters.”

Julian pouted into his cave stout.

“And you should do the same,” Ezri said before taking another perfect bite of the caramel-colored frozen custard.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the holosuites? We could do the Andorian ice caves this time. Or whatever you want to do.” He looked up at Ezri through his thick eyelashes, and the pleading look on his face almost got to her.

“You’ve had too much to drink, Julian.”

“I have not!” Despite knowing the fact that his very objection would prove Ezri’s point, Julian objected.

Ezri shot him an annoyed look. “You’re not always the most fun to be around when you’re like this.” She placed her thumb on the payment portal in the middle of their table and stood. “Come on.” She offered Julian her hand.

“I promise I won’t stay up all night.”

“You know I have patients to see in the morning.”

“I’ll be quiet.” Julian put a finger over his mouth and dramatically shushed himself. “I promise.”

“No,” Ezri said, steering them towards the turbolift. “I’ll make sure you get home all right.” She linked arms with Julian and put a hand on his lower back.

Hours later, Julian woke in his bed, with little recollection of how he got there. He hadn’t been sleeping well for months now, but at least it followed a pattern; he’d sleep for about an hour at a time and wake up between six to eight times a night. Sometimes it was more tiring than just staying up and finding some way to run off energy. He awoke with a start, somewhat surprised to be in his own quarters. He tended to sleep better when at Ezri’s, although that was usually accompanied by more substances than when he was on his own. But if you drank with others, then it wasn’t an issue. Right? Right. He heaved himself out of bed and stumbled to the replicator.

“Raktajino.” Julian croaked. He sat down at the table and stared into his mug for a few moments before addressing the computer.

“Personal log, Stardate – oh, can’t really be arsed to care anymore about what bloody stardate it is. I can’t tell if I’m going mad because of the station, because of the work, or the lack of it.

Maybe I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Computer, replicate three new blankets when I’m done with this log. And a pillow, model ‘feather light.’ I’ve tried everything I can think of short of up and going to Cardassia Prime to get in touch with him. I know the situation is bad down there, and he must be busy, but, to just drop off like that? Without a response? It’s just – I’m worrying myself into oblivion here.”

Julian laughed, and slammed his mug down on the table. “Ridiculous. It’s bloody ridiculous. I know it’s selfish to want a response from my, my – well, from my friend – who – my close friend, actually, my _close_ friend, who seems to not be interested in being my close friend anymore. What does it matter, I’m – just repeating the same maudlin rubbish over and over here, I’m going to get out of here and – well, it’s not too late to, I’ll find something to do. And I think it’s Monday – is it Monday? Yes, it is, so I’ve got to go water the orchids. I’ve got to go water all of Garak’s orchids, because apparently that’s what I do every Monday for the past eight months.”

Julian put on his uniform quickly and pulled a keycard – the keycard – from the top drawer in his desk, then made his way to Garak’s quarters, nervously fingering the key in his breast pocket.

It had been the last thing Garak had said to him in person, just before he’d left the surface of Cardassia Prime to return to Deep Space Nine; ‘I’d prefer if you kept one of these.’ He brought it out often, when he was feeling anxious, or missing Garak; he often used it as a touchstone for his racing mind, running his fingers over the smooth plastic edges while recording one of his transmissions to send to Cardassia. His many transmissions. Julian had laughed, said something casual before giving Garak an awkward hug and getting back on a transport. It made him cringe to recall it now. He genuinely thought Garak would return to Deep Space Nine in a week, maybe two, that there would be more time for lunches and dinners and conversation, the way it had always been. Julian couldn’t believe how foolish he’d been, especially after years of wartime.

He arrived at Garak’s quarters and swiped himself in. The humidity always hit him first, then the warmth. In the past six months, the modest room had essentially been transformed into a greenhouse. He’d set up the lights Keiko had left behind and returned the thermostat to its Cardassian standard. Julian feared Keiko was right about his green thumb; every plant in sight was growing, and rapidly. He surveyed the vines and the leaves for a moment before picking up a small metal watering can and placing it inside the replicator.

“I bet you would actually enjoy this room now if you were here, Garak,” Julian said quietly as he watered the Bajoran elara vine. “It’s always so warm in here now that all these plants are here. But I wonder how different it is from Cardassia. Or are there forests like this on Prime?”

He stuck a finger in the pink soil of the Kardasi mint. “Keiko was right. She’s always right about plants, I ought to just subspace with her in here, and then everything would be perfect.” Julian gave the pot a half turn so the feathery vine could straighten out its growth pattern. “No water for you this week, Keiko says you got overwatered. But she also said you would be fine. It’ll be fine. I promise I won’t kill you.”

He refilled the water and kept working his way through the plants. “Well, look at you,” he said to a flowering Romulan spotted arlyx. The plant resembled the begonia maculatas that his grandmother had been so fond of; pink spots dotting its deep purple leaves. “This arlyx has grown at least four new leaves since I’ve heard from you, Garak, if you bothered to open any of your messages, I imagine you’d have been at least moderately pleased to hear this.”

He watered the dendrobium orchids and misted the Denobulan air plants and deadheaded the Betazed showboat daisy. “I wonder if I’ll get to hear you thank me for all this. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve come to enjoy it, but, it’s been quite a while, and, well, at least on Earth, when we consider someone a friend, we, you know. We try to talk to them, even if only once a month, or…”

His eyes landed on a Cardassian plant with fenestrated leaves; it hadn’t been doing well long before Garak left, and he’d been warned that it might kick the bucket.

“Dammit, I was hoping you’d pull through.” Julian took the pot in his hand and thought briefly about smashing it before remembering that he would be the one to have to clean up the mess. He lifted the crispy, lifeless stem from the pot and deposited it in the replicator. “I’ve done everything you told me to with these, and they just keep growing, well, all right, aside from this one, that died, but you had said it would probably die, and,” Julian laughed, “you won’t even respond to a simple transmission and say anything at all about, well - about anything. You haven’t said anything to me in weeks. In months.”

As he continued his careful attentions to plant after plant, his anger grew louder, swelling like a symphony, reaching a peak when he got to the four pots of rocks that supposedly held some of Garak’s prized Edosian orchids. “Supposedly” doing a lot of heavy lifting in this context.

“I’ve cared for these empty pots and their ugly rocks for eight months now,” Julian muttered as he poured a gentle stream of water over the rocks in the criss-cross pattern Garak had insisted was necessary for the Edosian orchid to survive dormancy.

“And you know, Garak, I can hear you now, ‘don’t forget this one, Doctor, it doesn’t like to be ignored,’ it doesn’t like to be ignored, well, you know what? You’re right. Of course it doesn’t like to be ignored. No one likes to be ignored, no one, and it’s perfectly normal that I would feel that way about…”

Julian trailed off as he took a closer took at the pots. He was so caught up in the storm cloud of his anger that it took him a moment to realize what he was seeing: the start of a brand new spike emerging from the pot on the far left. “What’s this here?”

He stared at the unmistakable small purple spike emerging from the rocky soil.

“You told me there was no way these would bloom here,” Julian said before bursting into laughter. He dared not pick up the orchid and move it, choosing instead to get on his knees to closer examine the spike.

Before Garak had been officially sworn into civilian government, they had spoken a few times via subspace. One of those conversations had been two hours of care instructions for the plants in Garak’s quarters. Julian took notes and asked questions and said he’d do the best he could. Everything else had made sense, but the Edosian orchids eluded him. Garak had gone on and on about how precious they were, and how it was important to try to keep them alive. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Doctor, you of all people should know that,” he’d said, or something like that. Julian had essentially been watering a pot of rocks for eight months, and from this pot of rocks, a flower would soon bloom. He felt nothing short of unhinged elation.

“Garak. You said this was not possible. That this plant would thrive under nothing but native Cardassian conditions. Just like you, was what you said. Well, I sure wish you were here, so I could tell you to your face how wrong you were.” Julian thought he was speaking in anger and annoyance, and did not expect his voice to crack over the last few words as it did.

He stared at the few centimeters of purple spike and visualized the blooms of the Edosian orchid; rose like, with papery petals, a conic center, and a fragrance Garak had described as ‘unparalleled’ and ‘likely too sophisticated for your tastes.’ Julian’s mind was racing with an untamed mix of emotions, but the first thing he latched onto was a desperate need to catalog the conditions he’d been offering to the Edosian orchid, so he could ensure it would bloom. He whipped his tricorder out and placed it next to the pot, which was nestled into a nook in the bathroom. A few beeps and the humidity, light levels, and soil pH were all saved.

“You were wrong, and I can’t wait to tell you. To see the look on your face when I-“ Julian’s breath caught in his throat, and suddenly his vision went blurry and his face was wet. He slumped against the wall and sunk to the floor. A choked cry escaped his throat.

“God, what am I even doing.” Julian wasn’t able to name even one of the emotions coursing through him at the moment, and his brain began spinning out of control, which led him from confusion back into anger. He jumped to his feet and slammed both his hands against the wall, then stormed back into the main living area.

“Dammit! What in the bloody hell am I even-“

Julian stubbed his toe on the edge of Garak’s ostentatious chartreuse velvet ottoman and tripped, missing the coffee table by just a hair. He landed on the watering can and knocked the wind out of himself. In frustration and pain, he kicked his legs against something and heard it splintering. Julian sat up and saw that he’d broken one of the legs on Garak’s ottoman; the one that he’d brought up from the surface of Prime and spent several months restoring. The restoration had involved several months of complaining, as Julian recalled well.

“Oh, fuck,” Julian hissed under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Replicator, one – uh, adhesive.”

“Please specify.”

“Replicate adhesive suitable for-“ Julian examined the broken ottoman leg, “-Cardassian organic matter.”

“Please specify.”

Julian groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. “Replicate an adhesive suitable for dried and – uh, I suppose dead - Cardassian… plant matter.”

A small bowl of what looked like pine sap appeared in the replicator; Julian dipped his fingers in it and knelt next to the ottoman. He worked the adhesive over the leg of the ottoman, then grabbed an empty ceramic pot from the table and used it to prop up the ottoman so it was a few centimeters above the ground.

“There. Well, there we go.” Julian looked at the glue-like substance dripping down onto the crunchy Cardassian carpet from the jagged edged, half-assed repair job he’d slopped together. He scrambled for something to catch the sap and settled on a browning, crispy leaf from one of the phalenopsis orchids Keiko had left behind. He ripped the leaf from the base of the orchid and shoved it under the leg. “That’s – well, I suppose that’s going to have to do.” He stepped back to examine his ‘handiwork,’ and again found his cheeks were wet and the tips of his ears were burning.

Julian had, of course, read extensively about PTSD, studied it, and successfully treated many patients with it. Like most doctors, he was a terrible patient. His genetically enhanced brain knew this and reminded him so, but the events of the past years had ruptured the part of him that could keep up a carefully constructed veneer of control. He’d done a damn good job of holding it together, but now? Breaking down over a plant, of all things, well, that couldn’t be a good sign.

Julian walked into the bathroom and splashed his face with a little cool water. He reached, eyes closed, for the first towel he could find and pressed it against his forehead. He inhaled and smelled something unmistakably Garak lurking within the fabric. He set down the cloth and looked in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were puffy and dark, and his skin was inflamed and angry around his jawline, dry and patchy on his forehead.

“God, I look like shit.” Julian broke into laughter that kept rising higher and louder until he hit a ceiling of emotion and something inside him finally popped. “I look like shit,” he repeated as he tidied a few things and then left Garak’s quarters.

* * *

Standard Transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Doctor Leana Reynolds, Starfleet Medical Supervisor

Hello Doctor Reynolds,

I am writing to formally request a leave of absence for sixty days. I haven’t taken an extended leave in many years due to extenuating circumstances, some of which I’m sure you’re familiar with. The reason for my request is personal in nature.

Attached is required form 1087B.

Thank you,  
Doctor Julian Bashir

* * *

Standard Transmission from: Starbase 211  
Julian Bashir, Deep Space Nine

Hello Doctor Bashir,

I am aware of some of the details of your situation, thank you for attaching all required information. Your request for leave is granted; the soonest I can have coverage for you is in one month. Please advise as to the desired start date of your leave so I can arrange for Doctor Tankali to arrive on Deep Space Nine. It would be ideal for you to spend a day or two with her in the infirmary upon her arrival, but it is not required.

I hope your upcoming leave will be restful. Please let me know if you have any further questions.

Doctor Leana Reynolds  
Starbase 211

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pey’iúmb [star hour], Kardasi/Syansi for "middle of the night." 
> 
> kúna’efú teneka'palen, the phrase for a check-in is literally, ‘rock thrown through the window’, as in this little universe I'm working in, the kúna [stone] is the basis of written communication. Kúna were carved and left on porches, stoops, paths, and for more private communications, on windowsills or in front of / near private rooms and such. So, if you left someone a kúna and they did not respond, the next step was then to throw the kúna through the window, as the person you were trying to reach might be in there lifeless. I feel like the Syansi for "proof of life" would have to be something confrontational, so to check in on someone is to throw a rock through the window, and if you hear a noise of pain, then the person you were trying to reach is in there, lol. And as for "proof of life," the work of test and live felt right to me, as though it was a test one must pass. (from the use of "prove" more as "a proving ground".)
> 
> fen’taúi [scribbles, lit. “mystery writing”]
> 
> tola’tani’hojaú [the pain and embarrassment of missed opportunity, literally ‘to trip on the path’, encapsulating the pain of falling, but also the embarrassment of falling on a path where others can see, the moment of embarrassment when the edge of one's sandal catches and it is too late for you to avoid tripping, and other people are bound to notice.]


	5. Someone to Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further assessment of the current situation on Cardassia Prime. Doctor Parmak begins working on a solution with two old friends. Garak is resisting his need for a shed.

“In times of great difficulty, everyone eagerly returns to a beloved hobby: finding someone to blame for the plentiful troubles.”

\- Kardasi proverb

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
aiy’mat’zaua [Urgent transmission from]: Indar’Or  
zauaúsi [Received]: 1114.36 // únoõu [night]

Dazuaný Yirejtarrin mat'Saõun [The Honorable First Minister of Health]  
Kardasi’Or, Lút’eĵkařa Eheen [Eheen Continent]

Maktit maý’drana [Good greetings (formal)] Minister Ghelrell,

We again offer our most profound gratitude for your rapid response to our urgent situation. Since the time of our last arkan’taú, conditions have unfortunately worsened.

At your orders, nij’sedvel [quarantine] has been erected around the entire city of Indar’Or, as well as an order for all citizens to remain inside their homes. Thankfully, almost all citizens are committed to following these regulations in order to preserve the health and safety of the community.

Zum’eja [triage] has been implemented at all hospitals and medical centers in the province. Due to communications outages, we are unsure if all information has been conveyed to residents in the outer reaches of ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta. Any assistance from the central government in this matter would be welcomed with gratitude.

We have been able to confirm our hypothesis that the pathogen responsible for causing the illness is indeed a virus. Please see attached images and reports. As far as sequencing the full genome of the virus, we have not been able to do this with our limited facilities. We will need to arrange transport of samples to Kardasi’Or for the Ministry of Health to conduct further research.

With regards to transmission: it appears household transmission is common, and we have seen multiple confirmed cases of infection where the only known source of exposure was a household contact. The most alarming development has been a documented case with a full twenty-eight days between exposure and transmission. This indicates a possibility of a long asymptomatic incubation period. It is wise to consider the possibility that the virus has already escaped the boundaries of ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta and is seeding itself across the planet. Current travel restrictions prevent all but essential travel from ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta. In my opinion, this restriction remains important, but should not be considered an adequate defense. I encourage the Ministry of Health to provide rapid updates to all civil leaders so that they may prepare for the cases that surely will follow.

Community education continues, although without better knowledge of how the virus spreads, it has been limited to reminders of basic hygiene and the importance of remaining in one’s household and avoiding contact with others.

Sadly, we continue to experience significant numbers of citizens seeking treatment for symptoms caused by this illness. If current projections hold, we will soon unable to treat all those who are in need of care.

We find ourselves close to overwhelmed, and we have lost another dutiful worker at our hospital in the past day. We humbly request additional urgent assistance from Kardasi’Or to prevent further loss of life.

Tekbi Nill,  
Zenim se’Zauaú’Sedvel [Doctor of Transmissible Diseases]  
Saõuzenok se'Indar [Hospital of Indar]  
Indar’Or, Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta [Northern Continent]

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
aiy’mat’zaua [Urgent transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 1116.09 // únoõu [night]

Nuk’húŕ dran [evening’s greetings] Doctor Kapala,

The most recent arkan’taú from Indar’Or came in moments after you left. You will probably want to return to the Health Offices as soon as you receive this zaua.

Doctor Parmak  
Undersecretary to the Honorable Minister of Health

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauaúsi [Received]: 1119.50 // únoõu [night]

I am gathering a change of clothing and then I will return to the Health Offices.

Doctor Kapala, Specialist of Novel Pathogens  
Kardasi’Or Research Institute of Transmissible Diseases

* * *

Doctor Kapala strode through the door of the working Health Offices looking stately, if not downright regal. She was dressed in a deep grey dinila [dress] and a matching mi’nila [dress jacket]. Her inky black hair was pinned up in a series of concentric loops, and the center length of it fell neatly down the center of her back. She hung up her jacket carefully on the rack closest to the door and strode over to Doctor Kelas Parmak as though she were reporting for a standard meeting.

“All right, I have returned.”

Parmak blinked, then shook his head and laughed. “Amzal, you amaze me. You look as though you are about to ask me to accompany you to the opera. I am afraid that is not why I have asked you to come here in the pey’iúmb [star hour, star time].”

At this, Kapala rolled her eyes. “Kelas, you always did have a way of gathering grains of amusement from the shore.”

“I am afraid it is my only skill.”

“You should not speak untruths of yourself; honor knows we do not need to tease the flayer in these difficult hours.”

“Ah, yes. Ev’ban’mar [“awake tea”] for you?”

“Please.”

Parmak walked to the sad looking replicator and punched in a code. Two mugs materialized and he handed one to Kapala. “The last arkan’taú from Indar’Or is dire.”

“I suspected this to be the case.”

“Well, allow me to start with the… challenging updates.”

“Indar’Or lacks the resources to do anything other than the most basic of research, it is almost certain that the pathogen has made its way off ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta due to a long incubation period, there are no firm answers yet on mode of transmission, and the preliminary case fatality rate is approaching five percent. It seems unavoidable that the main hospital in Indar’Or will soon be overwhelmed and unable to treat everyone in need of care.”

Kapala gripped her mug tighter and sucked in a steadying breath. “You have never been one to hide the truth. And the other updates? I sincerely hope they are not as challenging.”

“The situation is difficult, yet there are some signs of hope. Doctor Nill’s team has succeeded in isolating the pathogen. It is a virus, it attacks the systems of elimination. In structure, it is similar to E712a.”

“Ah, so it is dual strand.” Doctor Kapala walked to the wall of monitors and with a few flicks of her fingers, pulled up an enlarged image of E712a, the virus responsible for causing scale drop. “An old mag’luz [enemy/friend, enemy with whom one is familiar].”

“Yes. Which means we at least are granted some familiarity with the structure-“ Parmak pointed to the three bonds between the strands, “-and we possess a strategy that has already been proven in battle.”

“Has there been any progress with therapeutics?”

Parmak shook his head. “Regretfully, no.”

“I know, I know. Far too soon to ask such a question.”

“There is the matter of time, and also the matter of scarce resources.”

“So Indar’Or does not have supply of myplethizine or sonpambilan?”

“No. And the main manufacturing for all medicine was…” Parmak trailed off. He didn’t need to continue; the main manufacturing center for medications (and nearly everything else Cardassia needed) was in Lakari’Or, which had been completely obliterated, blown off the map, along with its millions of residents. Kapala locked her hands behind her back and began pacing in a serpentine path.

“Which means we will not have adequate therapeutic supply even if we are able to find something that works.”

“Unless.” Parmak allowed the word to hang in the air before meeting Kapala’s eyes.

Doctor Kapala narrowed her eyes. “Kelas, you need not constrain your tongue with me.”

“Unless there is Federaji intervention.”

Kapala met Parmak’s eyes and a sad smile appeared on her face. “As you well know, Cardassia is divided on the matter of Federaji membership.”

“And still the process marches forward.”

They were silent for a few moments, the fatigue of the last several years combining with the long nights of the past week. As usual, Kapala spoke first.

“Kelas, I agree that joining this alliance is the best path forward for Cardassia.”

“I did not mean to suggest that you did not.”

“It is only my worry that-“ Kapala paused to choose her words carefully, “-those with their own agendas might seek to overshadow the most vital needs of the people.”

“Your unsaid words are very clear.” Parmak understood instantly what she was saying; that even in Cardassia’s hour of need, there would be those who opposed Federaji membership solely for political reasons. Anti-Federaji sentiment had been building for years. Parmak understood why; Cardassia was xenophobic in the best of times, and many citizens blamed the Federation for not intervening sooner in the war that had devastated their home world.

Kapala hummed in agreement. “Some things change on this planet, some things do not.”

Parmak sighed and looked at the time piece above the door. “The legislative session will begin soon.”

“You and I did this once before, Kelas.” Kapala put her hand on Parmak’s arm. “I know we are more than capable.”

Parmak covered her hand with his own. “Amzal, you must forgive my reticence. I did not wish to have to do this again in my lifetime.”

“I, too, had hoped we of Cardassia might be able to complain of boring years until we finally finish our days of duty.”

“But here we find ourselves. And there is no one else who could handle the weight of this burden.”

Kapala’s eyes turned lively. “I, too, have missed doing this work with you, Kelas.”

“Did you miss all the nights we slept on this very floor?”

“Perhaps, although the scales of my lower back might disagree with me.”

Parmak laughed hard enough to slosh his ev’ban’mar over the edge of his mug and onto the toe of his shoe. “Let us prepare for the difficult news we will have to share with the legislature.”

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 1826.00 // únoõu [night]

Doctor Parmak,

I suppose it is true, the old saying about need being the main reason one hears from prominent people in their past. I must apologize to be so gauche, but I am writing to ask if I could trouble you for a few doses of prescription strength scale softener. Just enough to get me through the next several days. I am afraid the many needs of Cardassia are not aligning with my personal need for a zum’rak [quick shed].

Civil Representative Garak

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 0343.36 // únoõu [night]

Garak,

Let me see what I can do. But you know that delaying your rak [shed] will catch up to you. Do not put me in the position where I have to send a kú’danok [note] above your head. There is no legislation that can remove old scales from one’s body.

Doctor Parmak  
Undersecretary to the Honorable Minister of Health

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
aiy’mat’zaua [Urgent transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 0519.04 // únoõu [night]

Nuk’húŕ dran [evening’s greetings] Minister Ghelrell, actually, I suppose at this point I might as well go with itozeý maelin. I have been at the Health Offices with Doctor Parmak through the pey’iúmb and into the morning.

I regret to be the one to share this information with you, but I just received word from the Hospital of Ward 7. There are two cases in Kardasi’Or, currently in isolation. They have no known direct connection to ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta, which suggests community transmission.

What is the recommended course of action?

Doctor Kapala, Specialist of Novel Pathogens  
Kardasi’Or Research Institute of Transmissible Diseases

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
aiy’mat’zaua [Urgent transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 0551.77 // únoõu [night]

This is not surprising but still, this news hits like a rip of the scales.

Will you call in Representative Garak and Professor Lang? They recently completed an assessment of available resources in Kardasi’Or. I believe there was a focus on health and wellness as it related to current planetary conditions.

I will be to the Health Offices as soon as I am able. I unfortunately do not move as quickly as I used to.

First Minister of Health Ghelrell

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 0624.91 // ta’ [day]

Garak, are you with Professor Lang at the moment?

Doctor Parmak  
Undersecretary to the Honorable Minister of Health

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 0649.04 // ta’ [day]

And a maktit maý’drana to you as well, Doctor Parmak. To answer your question, yes, Mayor Lang is with me, where she has been for the past three days. I am certain she tires of my company. She wishes to know if you intend to free her from the prison of my presence.

Civil Representative Garak

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 0701.86 // ta’ [day]

Luzý maý’drana [informal pleasant greetings] to you Garak, can the both of you please make your way to the working Health Offices at once? I was unaware Mayor Lang had a new position in civil government. I shall offer my congratulations to her in person.

Doctor Parmak  
Undersecretary to the Honorable Minister of Health

* * *

Garak followed Mayor Lang into the working Health Offices, where Kelas Parmak and Amzal Kapala had made a mess of the entire place. There were readers everywhere, and even some parchment tacked to the walls. Despite the room’s chaos, both Parmak and Kapala looked calm, stoic even. Their collected appearance didn’t surprise Garak. He had been working on other planets for most of the time that the doctors had been finding the cure for scale drop, but their professional partnership was legendary in the Kardasi scientific world.

“Maktit maý’drana,” Lang said.

“Maktit maý’drana,” Parmak offered without looking up from his tablet.

“The Mayor and I have brought the requested information.” Garak passed a stack of tablets to Parmak, who regarded him both with the eye of a doctor and the familiar gaze that can only be afforded with intimacy.

“You are going to need to take care of that [rak] shed, and soon,” he said as he took in the inflamed edges of the scales at Garak’s jaw.

“Always the physician, Parmak. However, it is Cardassia who is in need of your keen skills of observation.”

Parmak leaned in, and the familiar scent of him nearly knocked Garak over. “I know you like to think yourself of high importance. It is my sincere regret to be the one to inform you that the civil government is capable of functioning without your physical presence.” He flashed Garak a sly smile and returned to pecking at his tablet.

Garak chuckled, and decided not to lie to Parmak’s face. The doctor was right, after all. He desperately needed to take the time to deal with this rak [shed] before it got any worse.

“How can we be of service?” Lang asked.

Doctor Kapala gestured for Garak and Lang to come to the edge of the table, where she had set down two steaming mugs of ev’ban’mar and a stack of tablets. “Please, sit, and help us cross reference some data.”

“Gladly,” Garak said. He sat down and began reading.

“Was the Minister of Health with you?” Kapala asked.

“No, he was not,” Lang said. “Should we summon him to this meeting?”

“Yes, if you would, please,” said Parmak. “Probably better for us to get this over with.”

Mayor Lang set her tablet down atop her mug of ev’ban’mar and then . “The situation is that bad?”

Kapala sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Well…”

“We face a dire challenge.” Parmak picked up a tablet and passed it to Lang. “This is a basic summary we have prepared for the Representatives.”

“Let me read after I have sent a message to-“

“There’s no need for it,” Garak held up a hand, “I’m almost done with my summoning of the Honorable First Minister of Health. May I also read the basic summary?”

Parmak silently handed Garak a tablet. “Prepare yourself,” he said quietly.

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 0715.08 // ta’ [day]

Itozeý maelin, Minister Ghelrell,

Doctors Parmak and Kapala have joined myself and Mayor Lang at the Health Offices. Can you offer us an estimated time of your arrival?

Civil Representative Garak

* * *

Minister Ghelrell stumbled in with his aide a few moments later, both of them looking worse for wear. Garak had never been particularly fond of Ghelrell, but as they’d never had any direct engagement with one another, he’d been forced to back off his first impressions once returning to Cardassia Prime. It wasn’t Ghelrell’s fault that he was dry and humorless, Garak reasoned. In the past few months, they had formed a decent, if distant, working relationship, although Garak did find himself longing for a friend who didn’t work in the Kardasi civil government. Someone he could gossip with, someone who wasn’t constrained by either Kardasi social mores or the duty of working in the government…

“Garak?”

“Hmm?”

Parmak, Kapala, and Lang were all staring at him.

“Lost you for a moment there,” Lang said.

“My apologies, I find myself running a bit slowly this morning.”

“So are we all,” Parmak quipped.

“Doctor Parmak and I have our updates on modeling, transmission, and morbidity/mortality,” Kapala said.

“And Representative Garak and I bring data of available resources and capacity for the major population centers of Cardassia Prime,” added Lang.

Minister Ghelrell looked at the doctors and then the civil representatives. “All right, then. What is the current situation?”

“The situation is… deteriorating,” Doctor Kapala said in a measured tone of voice.

Minister Ghelrell turned to his aide. “I left my medication in the top drawer of my communications desk. Would you please bring it to me?”

The aide nodded and hurried out of the room, and Minister Gherell walked to the wall of monitors that held the data from Indar’Or. “Amzal, my old friend, please offer me your assessment as the medical expert you are, not as a member of the civil government.”

“Ah, well, in that case.” Doctor Kapala flipped through the tablets on the table before picking up two. “The virus attacks the systems of elimination, currently we are looking at a five percent preliminary case fatality rate for a virus which causes an incredible amount of suffering and pain for those who contract it. Indar’Or does not have the resources to offer treatment for all, nor therapeutics to help lessen the severity of illness. Doctor Nill reported two cases to us with an asymptomatic incubation period approaching twenty-eight days. There is no possible reality in which this virus is not already in Kardasi’Or, as well as spread throughout the entire planet. Possibly off world. We are about to be faced with a dire, dreadful situation with the potential for catastrophic loss of life.”

Ghelrell nodded slowly. “And you, Kelas. Do you share this viewpoint?”

“I do. And I share Amzal’s deep concern for the people of Cardassia Prime. We have already been caught unaware in the pey’iúmb [star hour, star time]. Any steps we can take in this moment to better prepare our citizenry should be our first priority.”

“What say the Representatives of the civil governance?” Ghelrell asked Garak and Mayor Lang, who looked at each other.

“We believe we must follow all recommendations of our medical professionals,” Mayor Lang said.

“I have great concern for the general state of Cardassia Prime at this moment,” Garak added.

“I am aware one is never alone on this planet, but I shall say it regardless.” Parmak held his head high and spoke directly to Minister Ghelrell. “I believe we of Cardassia will face sorrows unlike anything we have known in our lifetimes if we do not ask for help from the Federaji who wish to bring us into their association.”

Garak’s eyes went wide.

“Well, that raises the ridges,” Minister Ghelrell quipped.

“I do not mean offense, First Minister.”

“You are concerned for the welfare of Cardassia and her people, as all we are.”

Parmak nodded. Minister Ghelrell began pacing, but remained silent.

“I would follow my old friend Amzal into a hopeless battle,” Ghelrell said, “and I know that she places her full trust in you as well, Doctor Parmak.”

“You are correct, Tezny,” Kapala said with a small smile.

Minister Ghelrell was about to speak when his aide returned. He handed a small pouch to the minister with a silent nod.

“Thank you all for so freely sharing your gifts with me, and with Cardassia,” Minister Ghelrell said. “I shall call for an emergency meeting of the Civil Legislature." 

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
aiy’mat’zaua [Urgent transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 0842.36 // ta’ [day]

Aiy[URGENT]

Aiy’drana [urgent greetings],

All Civil Officers and Representatives receiving this message, please report to the Chambers of the State Archives immediately. An emergency meeting regarding the situation in ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta will commence momentarily.

Minister of Health Ghelrell

* * *

Once the legislative chambers were full, Minster Ghelrell knocked the eĵzem’aŕ [gavel] against the large legislating stone table, and the session began.

“Everyone in this chamber is aware of the reason we are in session. I will allow Doctor Kapala to provide further details of the situation.”

Doctor Kapala stood and walked to the monitor.

“Thirty days ago, we received notice of a cluster of illness observed in Indar’Or. Since then, it has been confirmed to be a viral outbreak.” She pulled up a slide with data from [Hospital of Indar]. “There is a specialist in [transmissible diseases] who identified the pathogen. Doctor Nill is a student of the Research Institute of Transmissible Diseases and we are grateful for her quickness of action. As of today, there are two cases in Kardasi’Or, with no known travel history to ra’Lút’eĵkařa Noda’lúkta. This suggests there is already community transmission of the virus in Kardasi’Or. The long incubation period, as well as the initial high documented case fatality rate, present unique concern.”

The room fell silent, and Kapala studied the faces of the legislators. “Shall I continue?”

“I believe the severity of the threat is clear, Doctor,” said Minister Ghelrell.

“It is true this is a challenge we would rather not face, especially at this time of great trouble,” Parmak said stoically, “but the honorable Kardasi people are known for endurance, for strength.” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.

Kapala looked at Parmak, and then he continued. “It is also true that Cardassia is in pain. The effects of the orbital bombardment were severe, as everyone present in these chambers knows.”

“There is the possibility of therapeutic drugs serving to lessen the severity of this outbreak, but we currently lack the production facilities to manufacture the amount that will likely be needed,” Kapala chimed in.

“As Cardassia is currently in the process of joining the Federaji, It is, therefore, our opinion, that we request assistance from a member state, or member states.”

The room erupted into chaos; all those opposed voicing their disapproval and all those in favor expressing their frustration. Loudly.

The acting head of the council slammed the eĵzem’aŕ [gavel] against the stone table. “Order, order! There shall be order in the chambers.”

Garak cleared his throat and stood. “Doctors Kapala and Parmak are well known for their work against a similar virus. I have full confidence in their assessment of the current situation.”

A spike of pain shot up Garak’s spine as he sat back down. He really needed to deal with this rak [shed]. _Terrible timing as always_ , he thought. After adjusting his robe, he looked to his right to see Parmak and Minister Ghelrell whispering to one another, then looking his way.

“Surely we are not discussing such a matter without a vote of all the Representatives,” said Gul Drejet. An associate of the former Gul Dukat, Drejet had been amassing support from members of the military, as well as those who wished for a ‘firm hand’ approach to Cardassian governance. “We all respect those in the medical and scientific arts on Cardassia, after all, we are a civilized people. But do we not agree that it is the duty of the legislative chamber to make such decisions?”

“As we are a legislative body, we shall vote.”

“Vote on what?” Mayor Lang asked.

“The vote I wish to call is the question of Federaji involvement,” Gul Drejet said. “A vote in favor means we shall grovel before this Federaji for assistance, and a vote against means we shall trust in our own resources and our own wisdom against this scourge.”

To Garak, tone of the Gul’s voice was nearly indistinguishable from Dukat. He looked down at the backs of his hands splayed out on the stone table; the seams in between his scales were red and raw. This young Gul was not to be trusted, Garak knew.

“With all due respect, Representative,” Parmak said, “We must not view this situation as one that is carved into stone. The details continue to shift by the hour. Surely we would not view a single vote to be indicative of how we will handle the outbreak through its entire course.”

“The Doctor is correct,” Mayor Lang agreed. “This vote must not be permanently binding. The situation is a rapidly changing one, and it will require all members of civil government to follow it as closely as those in the medical and scientific arts.”

“I do not disagree with you, _Professor_ ,” said Gul Drejet, his voice dripping with condescension, “I only wish for the proud planet of Cardassia to be given the opportunity to solve her own problems.”

“Doctors, what is a reasonable time frame for the young Gul’s proposal?” Garak asked, volleying Drejet’s disrespect back to him.

Kapala, Parmak, and Minister Ghelrell spoke amongst themselves for a moment.

“A viral outbreak of a novel pathogen is – every moment of delay could mean a loss of life. I would encourage that the period of time be no longer than twelve days,” said Kapala.

“I agree with the Doctor,” added Minister Gherell.

“Surely Cardassia can make her own progress in twelve days. That is acceptable,” Gul Drejet said.

“The Representative has called for a vote,” said the acting head of the council. The clacking sound of a couple hundred hands reaching under their seating for the vote tabulators echoed in waves through the chamber. The vote tallies appeared on the monitor in real time. Mayor Lang drummed her fingers on the stone table. Garak briefly locked eyes with Parmak and then Kapala. Minister Ghelrell didn’t even bother to hide the exhaustion on his face.

The chambers fell silent as the final vote totals appeared on the screen. It was a narrow vote, but it was a vote against Federaji involvement. Parmak exchanged a knowing glance with Kapala and did his best to keep emotion off his face.

“The votes are counted,” said the acting head of the council. He cracked the eĵzem’aŕ [gavel] against the stone. “Minister of Health Ghelrell, do you wish to address the council?”

Minister Ghelrell stood. “The Ministry of Health will respect the wishes of the council. We shall continue to follow all scientific and medical guidance given to us by our experts, but we will not notify anyone outside the Cardassian system about the outbreak until we have further information,” he said.

“Unless anyone else wishes to raise further discussion, that will conclude today’s legislative session.”

The clack of the eĵzem’aŕ sounded through the chamber. As Representatives began discussions, Garak left the assembly through an exit at the corner of the room and walked as fast as he was able to his office. Kilmar was seated at the desk in the small entry room.

“Do not allow anyone to disturb me,” Garak said before slipping into his tiny private office and locking the door.

* * *

Encrypted channel  
Urgent transmission from: Suraya City, Risa, Risan System  
Sent: 0257.11

Colonel Kira Nerys  
Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System

Colonel Kira,

It has been far too long since we have spoken, and I wish I could come to you under less desperate circumstances. I had hoped to be able to reminisce with you about our glamorous efforts to liberate the Cardassian people from my father’s basement, or perhaps get your measurements for that suit I promised you months ago. Ignore the location data; I am fulfilling my duties to my people and not on a vacation to the “pleasure planet.”

Cardassia Prime is suffering from a viral outbreak. The situation is dire, and worsening rapidly. The Civil Legislature, of which I am a member in good standing (currently), voted to follow all guidance of our medical experts. However, the Civil Legislature also voted to withhold information of the outbreak from the Federation, with whom we are currently negotiating terms of admittance.

Colonel, I believe the loss of life could be catastrophic if we do not receive outside help from the Federation. In my humble opinion, the political forces that wish to turn Cardassia inward on herself do not have the best interests of the Cardassian people at heart.

If you receive this message, please send a reply to my usual communications portal containing only the word “Test.”

Garak

* * *

Parmak flagged down Ghelrell in the hallway as the session cleared. “Send the arkan’taú,” he said quietly. “Keep news of the outbreak quiet for now, but send the arkan’taú.”

Ghelrell studied Parmak’s face for a moment, and then nodded.

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or, Kař Pei’Kařdasiya [Cardassia Prime], Itzik’ar Kardasi [Cardassian System]  
eka’lansúi [sent from a group, from an organization, from a government] 1214.36 // ta’ [day]

Zenim [Doctor] Julian Bashir,  
Deep Space Nine, Itzik’ar Bajõui [Bajoran System]

Maktit maý’drana [Good greetings(formal)] Zenim Bashir,

I am writing to discuss a medical matter regarding a member of the Cardassian Civil Government.

Civil Representative Garak is experiencing a minor, treatable medical issue due to the natural process of his rakú [shedding]. Under normal circumstances, this would easily be treatable on Cardassia Prime; however, we currently need to reserve hospital space for citizens experiencing urgent or life-threatening situations.

It was brought to my attention that you are an associate of Representative Garak, and that you have previously treated him as your patient.

Please advise at your earliest convenience if we may arrange transport for Representative Garak to receive medical treatment at Deep Space Nine.

Cuf’yaõun he’azuan [In health and honor],  
First Minister of Health Ghelrell

* * *

mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Deep Space Nine, Itzik’ar Bajõui [Bajoran System]  
zauaúsi [Received]: 0159.36 // ta’ [day]

Test


	6. As Minnows in the Stream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colonel Kira receives a request from Vulcan. Julian receives a request from Cardassia Prime.

Every day of ide, the Resonant of the Prophets would sit in the town square and discuss the wisdom of the Prophets with all who would listen. In the warmth of the afternoon sun, a young woman stood and asked Resonant Omi, “What is the most important lesson you have learned in your walks with the Prophets?”

The Resonant paused, and placed her hands next to where she sat on the stone wall. She swung her legs as though she were a small child while she pondered the question.

“It is difficult to pick any singular lesson, but, I shall try. I imagine many of you do not know that when I was a young woman, I had plans to be a doctor.”

There were murmurs among the crowd, and even some surprised laughter.

“Yes, yes, it’s true. I had big dreams, grand visions, of what my life would look like as a doctor in my small town. It was so real to me, it was as if I was already living that life,” Resonant Omi said, gesturing with her graceful hands. “And then I received the message from the Prophets of the path that I was to walk. The Prophets appeared to me, me! A humble girl from the central farmlands who had never even been in a temple until I was a grown woman. I thought the day the Prophets spoke to me would be the happiest day of my life. It wasn’t. I cried for hours. I thought I would never know happiness. It felt as though the sun had vanished from the sky. My life turned upside down, spilled over and broken.”

The crowd had fallen silent and watched Resonant Omi intently.

“And yet here I am. Resonant of the Prophets. Devoting my every day to understanding what the Prophets say to me, to the Bajoran people. Contentment in my heart that I never knew possible. The most important lesson I have learned? The path that the Prophets would have us walk could change at any moment! We must be as water flows over the flat stones of the riverbanks. Up, and down, over, around, always finding a way, never stopping, never growing stale, never getting caught. Delight in the uncertain nature of life, and the blessings of the Prophets will be as plentiful as the minnows in the stream.”

-From “As Water Over Stone,” Joyful Revelation-era Bajoran meditation on change

* * *

“Garak? Is that you?” Colonel Kira Nerys could barely make out the outline of a vaguely Cardassian-appearing face in the subspace video.

“Ah, Major,” said a familiar voice. “Oh, excuse me, Colonel! I apologize. It is difficult for me to keep up with just about everything these days.”

“It’s good to see – well, it’s good to hear your voice, Garak.”

“Let me just…” Garak reached off screen and then Kira could finally see his face, lit from the side by something gentle with a green undertone. “I forget that our species’ eyes perceive light in different ways. Is that better?”

Kira smiled broadly. “Indeed, it is. It’s good to see you.”

“And it’s good to see you too, my dear. How are things aboard the cold space station? How’s Quark, and-“

“Okay, you know what-“ Kira took a large gulp of her raktajino, “-we’re not going to be doing that today. I don’t have time to have this be a Cardassian-style isiisizem [endless chit-chat, endless discussion], so let’s get to the point. What’s the situation?”

Garak sighed and ran his fingers over his eyebrow ridge. Kira thought she saw the edges of his scales lift up as they were touched.

“You look exhausted,” Kira said.

Garak laughed. “Would you believe I look better than I feel?”

“Talk to me. I’m sure you don’t have much time.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“What do you need?”

Garak sucked in a long, slow breath. “The access code to enter my shop is found carved into the bottom of a pot in my quarters. Enter my quarters using authorization code Theta Gamma twenty-one oh-seven green, and turn to your left. Next to the kitchen sink is a Bajoran clay pot that Keiko gave me as a thank you gift.”

Kira, who had been furiously scribbling on her PADD, looked up. “Oh, that one. The pink one with the stars, right?”

“Exactly, Colonel. The pink one with the stars. Lift it up – carefully – and below it you will find the access code for my shop. Add three zeros to the beginning of the code. Enter it in on the alarm system, and then hold down the Enter key for five seconds. That should open the shop.”

“Otherwise, it will cause the whole shop to self-destruct?” Kira laughed, and then caught the look on Garak’s face.

“Let’s just say, it would be best for you to follow my instructions to the letter.”

“Right.”

“Once inside my shop, you will find a Cardassian communications portal in the table where I do my sewing,” Garak continued. “On the side of the table that is closest to the wall, on the left side, you will find four foot pedals. Press down the first, second, and fourth at the same time and hold them down for fifteen seconds. The portal should then emerge vertically from the table.”

Kira’s stylus cracked furiously against the PADD. “Mmm, okay.”

“Now, for this next part, you’ll need Quark’s assistance. He knows a lot more about Cardassian encryption codes than he lets on.”

“Do we really have to involve Quark?”

Garak raised his eyebrow ridges and a look of amusement settled on his face. “Colonel, you really don’t want to know how many favors Quark owes me..”

Kira sighed. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“Trust me, that Ferengi knows a lot more about Cardassian encryption that he will ever reveal to you. Now, this next part is the most important. You must tell Quark to send the data leaked transmission to the attention of the Office of Assistance to the Castellan.”

“A data leaked transmission to the Office of Assistance to the… Castellan,” Kira repeated, her brow furrowed. “And that’s all he’ll need to know?”

Garak nodded. “I’ve already sent the content of the transmission to Quark. All he needs to do is send the data leaked transmission to the Office of Assistance to the Castellan.”

“All right.”

“Without revealing too much detail, Colonel, the transmission will appear as though it’s been leaked from within the Castellan’s office, and then information about the outbreak will… serendipitously find its way to the appropriate Federation officials.” Garak smiled broadly.

Kira chuckled. “You always smile like the kayfar that snatched dessert from the windowsill,” she said, shaking her stylus at Garak.

Garak made a face of disgust. “The kayfar. Such an undignified rodent.”

“Tell me about it.” Kira searched Garak’s face, then looked down at the PADD in her hands. “Be careful down there,” she said quietly.

“I appreciate your concern, my dear, but unfortunately for my enemies, I carry too much of Cardassia’s weight upon my back.” Garak held up his hands and waved them. “I’m far too busy to be murdered.”

At that, Kira laughed heartily. “So you are. Take care of yourself.”

“And you too, my friend. Oh, before I go, how is our dear Doctor?”

“He’s good, I think. Still the same old Julian.”

“Wonderful.”

Kira had never seen such an expression of fondness so plainly upon Garak’s features, and she was about to say something about it when the subspace channel went dark.

* * *

Official Governmental Transmission, Encrypted, from: Shi’Kahr, Vulcan, Vulcan System  
Sent: 0241.18

Attention: Colonel Kira Nerys  
Station Commander, Deep Space Nine

Greetings Colonel Kira,

I hope this transmission finds you in satisfactory health.

I write to inform you of a situation of great diplomatic urgency and sensitivity. In conjunction with Starfleet Intelligence, a Vulcan team has extracted former Romulan Senator Kimara Cretak from imprisonment on Romulus. For the past three months, Senator Cretak has been recovering in Shi’Kahr, under the supervision of Doctors Skam and T’Lir.

The former Senator has requested asylum from the Federation, and her request has been approved. As of today, the Vulcan medical team has cleared Senator Cretak for warp travel.

The granting of asylum to a former high ranking Romulan official has proven a controversial decision. It is my understanding that the former Senator previously served on Deep Space Nine.

The Vulcan government considers the most logical option to be granting Senator Cretak temporary living quarters on Deep Space Nine while she continues her recovery. This would also offer the Federation additional time to negotiate the terms of Senator Cretak’s resettlement.

Please respond at your earliest convenience.

Vissok  
Vulcan High Council  
Shi’Kahr, Vulcan

* * *

Encrypted Transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 0314.61

Hello Captain S’Lank,

I just received a very interesting message from the Vulcan High Council and wanted to know if you were aware of the situation.

See attached.

Colonel Kira Nerys  
Deep Space Nine

* * *

Encrypted Transmission from: Starbase 291, Bajoran System  
Sent: 0501.08

Colonel Kira,

Federation Intelligence has authorized Senator Cretak to be granted temporary living quarters on Deep Space Nine. According to her Vulcan medical team, she will need another 6-8 (Bajoran) months of physical therapy before she can be released to whatever planet or moon we can find that will take a former high-ranking member of the Romulan government.

You worked with Cretak briefly, did you not? If you are opposed to this course of action, I am willing to make another suggestion to the Vulcans.

Captain S’Lank

* * *

Encrypted Transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 0507.61

Captain S’Lank,

No, that won’t be necessary. There’s no reason to blow up an entire diplomatic plan. Especially not with the Vulcans. I am not opposed to the plan, but I do have some security concerns. Oddly enough, I didn’t find Senator Cretak to be that difficult until we nearly came to blows over the whole Derna situation. Will she need special accommodation for her physical needs?

Colonel Kira Nerys  
Deep Space Nine

* * *

Encrypted Transmission from: Starbase 291, Bajoran System  
Sent: 0538.01

Colonel Kira,

I know many of the rooms aboard DS9 have a threshold that requires one to step over it. (I know this because I have tripped over it multiple times) From what the Vulcans have said, I believe she is able to walk with mobility aids. It would be advisable for her to have quarters close to a turbolift, as close to the infirmary as possible, but it would be wise for you to confirm this with the Vulcans. Will you respond to the communique and copy me?

Captain S’Lank  
Starbase

* * *

Encrypted Transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 0608.61

Vulcan High Council  
Shi’Kahr, Vulcan

Greetings Vissok,

Captain S’Lank (copied) and I agree with your assessment of the situation. Senator Cretak is welcome aboard Deep Space Nine, and she can receive any needed care in the infirmary. If you could forward the Senator’s medical records to Doctor Julian Bashir, we can be better prepared for her arrival. Please also have the medical team send over the Senator’s accommodation requirements during her time here on DS9.

Having a formerly high-ranking Romulan offical aboard the station presents its own set of security concerns. I believe it would be best for us to schedule a subspace meeting with our Chief of Security Lanxs to formulate a plan of action.

I don’t believe I have any further questions at this time. We on DS9 offer our support to the Vulcan High Council, Starfleet Intelligence, and the Senator in this effort.

Colonel Kira Nerys  
Deep Space Nine

* * *

Libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
aiy’mat’zaua [Urgent transmission from]: Kardasi’Or, Kař [Cardassia Prime], Itzik’ar Kardasi [Cardassian System]  
eka’lansúi = (sent from a group, from an organization, from a government)12.14.36 // ta’ [day]

Aiy [Urgent]: Zenim [Doctor] Julian Bashir,  
Deep Space Nine, Itzik’ar Bajõui [Bajoran System]

Maktit maý’drana [Good greetings(formal)] Zenim Bashir,

I am unsure if my first arkan’taú reached you due to a planetary communications outage. I humbly ask that you forgive my urgency in sending a second.

Civil Representative Garak is experiencing a minor, treatable medical issue due to the natural process of his rakú [shedding]. Under normal circumstances, this would easily be treatable on Cardassia Prime; however, we currently need to do our best to reserve hospital space.

There is currently a viral outbreak on Cardassia Prime; this is not yet common knowledge to anyone outside the system. Our medical teams are working on containment, and we have full confidence that our quarantine and infection control measures will be eased by the end of the month.

At the present time, it is imperative that Representative Garak be quarantined for a minimum of eighteen Kardasi days, twenty-four days being the ideal time period. At the time of this arkan’taú, the P’Arkela Zauaú’Sedvel [Communicable Diseases Task Force] saw no indication that the virus is capable of infecting any species other than Cardassians, but we wish to exercise the highest level of caution.

The average time from exposure to symptoms is eighteen days; observed range has been seven to twenty-one days from date of exposure. Note the attached information for all that is currently known about the pathology and presentation of the illness.

I understand you are a friend of Representative Garak, and he has spoken highly of your knowledge. I would consider it a personal favor if you would be able to grant this request.

I plead that you respond as soon as possible so that we might approve transport for Representative Garak to Deep Space Nine.

Yireĵtarrin se’Yaõun [First Minister of Health] Ghelrell

* * *

“Kira to Bashir.”

“Bashir here.”

“Julian, can you meet me in my office?”

“Your ears must be burning, Kira, because I was just about to ask if you were free to meet up with me in the infirmary.”

“My ears are burning?”

“Oh, it’s an Earth saying, it’s what people say sometimes to one another when-“

“Okay, okay, you can tell me about it later. Just get here as soon as you can, will you? It’s turning into a very interesting day.”

“Tell me about it.”

* * *

Julian arrived to Kira’s office a few moments later with a stack of PADDs in one hand and a mug of what smelled like red leaf tea in the other. He awkwardly opened the door with his hip.

“Good to see you,” Kira said. “Sit down.”

“Busy morning?”

“You have no idea. I’ve been working since 0400.”

Julian set down his tea and the PADDs on Kira’s desk and leaned forward. “What’s going on?”

“Well-“

“Oh!” Julian grabbed one of the PADDs and held it up. “I got a communique just before we spoke. From the Cardassian First Minister of Health.”

Kira nodded. “About the outbreak?”

Julian “Yes, um, well, no, not exactly. It was about Garak, actually.”

“What about Garak?”

“Well, you can take a look for yourself,” Julian pushed one of the PADDs towards Kira. “Apparently he’s experiencing some minor complications from a shed, and the First Minister of Health wants to send him here for treatment.”

“What?” Kira’s brows were knit together in confusion.

“Given the situation with the virus, I thought I’d better get your permission before agreeing to something like this.”

Kira finished scanning the rest of the communique. “Did Minister Ghelrell say anything else about the outbreak?”

“Just what’s in that transmission. They seem to think they’ll have it contained by…” Julian caught the somber look on Kira’s face and trailed off. “What’s that look about?”

Kira shook her head. “Garak doesn’t seem to think it’s going so well. But he didn’t mention anything about his shed or coming to Deep Space Nine.”

“Garak?” Julian’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward. “You heard from Garak?”

“I did.” Kira wasn’t entirely surprised by the way Julian seemed to instantly deflate before her, but she also wasn’t prepared for it. “He sent me an encrypted transmission. Made it look like it was from Risa, of all places. We spoke a few hours ago.”

“You _spoke_ to Garak?”

“Briefly. Very briefly. The situation is, well. It seems like it’s not great.” She handed Julian a PADD. “Here.”

Julian, his shoulders slumped, quickly read over the transmission. “He hasn’t written me back in months,” he mumbled.

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he was coming to DS9. Typical,” Kira offered graciously.

Julian sighed, allowing himself one last indulgent moment of self-pity before stepping back into his duty as the station’s CMO.

“Can we allow him to be treated here?”

“Of course.”

“Really?” Julian’s countenance lifted instantly.

“I assume you know how to safely quarantine him as the Health Minister suggested.”

Julian nodded. “Oh, absolutely. The rooms that surround Garak’s quarters are unoccupied, I can enact a force field around that entire section. It’s always difficult to tell with a novel pathogen, but from the information they sent over, I agree with their assessment; I don’t think it’s likely it would be able to infect anyone besides Cardassians. Still, better safe than sorry.”

“All right. Go ahead and set it up. And let me know what security measures we’ll need to take.”

“Ah. Right. Well, then, I suppose I should leave you to it.”

“Hey, wait just a minute – I’m not done with you yet.” Kira tossed back the last of her raktajino. “I actually called you in here to discuss something completely different.”

“How many of those have you had today?”

“That is none of your business, Doctor.” Kira rifled through the PADDs on her side of the desk. “I got word from Vulcan this morning. The Federation has granted Senator Cretak asylum.”

Julian’s eyes went wide. “Cretak?” he asked in a coarse whisper.

Kira nodded.

“She’s… alive?”

“She’s alive, and they want to send her to live on DS9 for a while.” Kira handed Julian the PADD that contained the communique from Vulcan.

“Really?” Julian began scanning the text. “Why here?”

“Well, I imagine part of it is for diplomatic reasons. A Federation post under Bajoran command is a more neutral location for a former Romulan Senator than a planet. Although we’ll have to find her a place to live at some point. She was granted asylum and not exiled.”

“True.”

“But the main reason is her medical needs.”

Julian went silent, and Kira watched him scroll up and down through the same passage a few times. “She was tortured, wasn’t she?”

Kira’s stomach lurched. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Hardly unexpected, but still barbaric.”

“Can you treat her?” Kira asked.

“Yes, of course I can. But… has anyone mentioned anything about mental health?”

“No.”

Julian ran a hand over his chin. He let out a long sigh and shook his head. “I know Romulans aren’t exactly known for being um, vulnerable, or even sociable, but I must insist we consider Senator Cretak’s mental health as part of her recovery process.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“At the moment, I’m not entirely sure,” Julian laughed awkwardly and stood, “but I imagine we can figure it out once she’s here. Permission to prepare for two new patients.”

Kira nodded and smiled. “Permission granted.”

* * *

Libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Deep Space Nine, Itzik’ar Kardasi [Bajoran System]  
1214.36 // ta’ [day]

First Minster Ghelrell,

My sincerest apologies for the lack of a timely response, I received both communiques at the same time so I will respond to the second.

The answer to your question is yes, absolutely, I can offer medical care to Representative Garak upon his arrival to Deep Space Nine. He is an old friend, and I would consider it my duty to provide him the best care possible in this difficult time.

Colonel Kira and I share your concerns about interspecies transmission, and the station is well equipped to enforce a twenty-one day quarantine for the Representative upon his arrival.

Once the shuttle is within visual range of Deep Space Nine, please hail on our medical frequency for further instruction. We will allow the shuttle to dock, and then use our transporter to beam the Representative directly into isolation quarters. We do not see Cardassians aboard the station with regularity, but with the ongoing Federation talks and restoration efforts, there have been occasional visitors in the past seven months.

I understand how important Representative Garak’s work is to the people of Cardassia. Rest assured that he will receive the only finest care while aboard Deep Space Nine.

Julian Bashir

Chief Medical Officer, Deep Space Nine

* * *

Libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or, Kař [Kardasia Prime], Itzik’ar Kardasi [Cardassian System]  
eka’lansúi = (sent from a group, from an organization, from a government)

1238.91 // ta’ [day]

Maktit maý’drana Doctor Bashir,

My utmost gratitude for your rapid response. I am relieved and pleased that Representative Garak will be under such fastidious care during this time. I will let you know the instant the transport departs from Kardasi’Or. Representative Garak should be to Deep Space Nine within five hours of the start of his journey.

If you would endure one more request, I would greatly appreciate receiving confirmation of Representative Garak’s arrival into quarantine. These are trying times for the Cardassian people, and Representative Garak is a vital member of our government. I again offer my gratitude on behalf of myself and the Cardassian people.  
  


In utmost personal gratitude,  
First Minister of Health Ghelrell

* * *

Kira had mountains of work to do, but found herself reading and re-reading Senator Cretak’s health records and the accompanying medical recommendations in between sending communique after communique. After twelve hours on shift, she finally gave in to the cries of her lower back and the haze that had settled over her mind.

“The rest of this’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Kira muttered before locking up and leaving. She walked slowly down the promenade and found herself lingering in front of the temple. Perhaps some meditation would be the ideal way to end a long day.

Moments later, Kira was seated in the middle of the temple, chanting quietly and reflecting on the past few months. As always, her faith grounded her, and it wasn’t long before she felt the various stresses from this particular day leaving her body. Halfway through the Second Bajoran Meditation on Making Peace With One’s Daily Life, Kira became aware of the presence of another person and lowered her voice.

“What are you doing in here in the middle of the afternoon?”

Kira turned to see Ezri. “Just um, just meditating at the end of a long day.”

“Kira, why do you look surprised to see me?” Ezri asked boldly.

“Um, I’m not – I wouldn’t say I’m surprised, I just didn’t expect you to be here.”

“You wouldn’t expect me to be here? Okay, Kira,” the Trill said, a familiar smirk upon her face, her countenance completely different than the Ezri that Kira had come to know over the past two years. “It’s been a while since we’ve done a holosuite spa adventure. You wanna join me? Quark owes me a few hours in there. I kicked his ass at dabo last week and he claimed I ‘drained him dry’.”

Kira’s head was already spinning from a twelve hour work day, and too many raktajinos combined with too little sleep made her slow to figure out exactly what was happening. “Uh-huh,” she nodded.

“So you’ll join me for a spa day? Amazing. Worf’s not a huge fan of it,” Ezri laughed, and she sounded so much like Jadzia that Kira’s blood ran cold, “but he loves when I come home and… Nerys, what’s wrong? You look pale as a cave stone.”

“Tell me your name,” Kira said slowly.

Ezri snorted. “What? It’s me, Jadzia.” Ezri laughed. “You trying to pull one over on me, aren’t you? Did Ben put you up to this? I bet he did, didn’t he.” Kira remained still, watching Ezri pace in circles in a familiar pose of Jadzia’s, hands behind her back, sparkling smile upon her face. “Come on, Nerys, stop playing around. As soon as you’re done, we can hit the spa.”

Kira stood and slowly reached for Ezri’s hand. “You’re um, you’re not – you contain Jadzia’s memories, but you’re not Jadzia,” she said quietly. “Your name is Ezri. Ezri Dax.”

Ezri crinkled her nose and looked at Kira. “I’m who now?”

“You are Ezri Dax.”

“Hmm. I don’t know about that.” The Trill laughed.

Kira felt the heat of panic rising into her chest and willed herself to keep talking, just keep talking. “You are Ezri Dax, you were – you were on a shuttle with Jadzia when she was, when she was injured, and on the journey, the symbiont took a turn for the worse, and since you were the only Trill on board, you-“

“I was the only Trill on board,” Ezri said slowly. The familiarity with which she’d been treating Kira stopped immediately, and she backed away. “I was the only Trill on board! And so instead of years of training, I got a fifteen minute lecture about…” Ezri trailed off as she realized where she was. “I died here,” she said. “I died here. Well, the last time I died. The last of many.” She began laughing.

“You’re okay, Ezri, you’re fine.”

“Clearly I’m not fine, Colonel, I’m absolutely, completely, not fine.”

“Ezri, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

Ezri was shaking, laughing, and crying at the same time, and Kira did the only thing she felt might help, which was to gather the smaller woman into her arms and give her a sincere, if awkward hug.

“You’re okay, Ezri.” She patted the Trill’s hair as she’d done to Jadzia a million times. It would never stop being so strange, holding this completely different woman, who carried all the memories of her beloved friend, who was simultaneously her and absolutely not her. Kira had left so many things unsaid. She always thought they’d have more time…

Ezri finally hugged Kira back, halfheartedly slinging her arms around the Colonel’s neck. “I keep forgetting who I am. Where I am,” She mumbled into Kira’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you checked out, okay? Kira to the infirmary.”

“No.” Ezri grabbed Kira’s hand and pulled it away from her comm badge. “No, I – there’s nothing in the infirmary that can help me.”

“Wait. Ezri-“

“No. No.” Ezri wriggled out of Kira’s arms and held out her hands. “I need to go home. I need to go home.” She looked at Kira with a wild fear in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Colonel,” she said before hurrying out of the temple.

Kira was surprised by how easily she could forget that one of her closest friends had been murdered in this very room, this space that still offered her so much peace and solace. Today, the memories won, and she left the temple with a tight, balled-up mix of anger and shoved-aside grief spinning around in her gut.

* * *

Personal transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 20:12

Drazi, if you’re up please call me

* * *

Personal transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 20:15

I’m sorry, just trying again

* * *

Personal transmission from: Deep Space Nine, Bajoran System  
Sent: 20:21

I need to talk to you, Drazi, to someone

* * *

Julian heard a chime at his door and was surprised to see Ezri. He didn’t bother to say anything before leaning in and kissing her with a huge stupid grin on his face. He was in his first good mood in months, and, well, why was that exactly? Suddenly Ezri pulled back, and Julian got a look at the fraught expression on her face. “Ezri, what’s wrong?”

“I need to go back to Trill.” Ezri brought a shaking hand to her face to wipe away the tears that seemed to fall of their own accord.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on? Come in.” Julian cleared a spot on the sofa for her and went so far as to replicate her favorite earth tea, peppermint. He was nothing if not attentive to her needs, and Ezri had never once felt dismissed when the time came to discuss serious emotional matters. “I’m – I’m not handling this well.”

“Handling what?” Julian sat down next to the Trill and put a lanky arm around her shoulders.

“Anything.” Ezri’s lip began trembling.

“Ezri, hey, you’re – whatever it is that’s going on, you can tell me, you know that.”

“I need to go home,” Ezri said before breaking down and wailing into Julian’s shoulder.

Julian began stroking Ezri’s back and murmuring cliched phrases of comfort. He didn’t know exactly what Ezri meant, or why she had led with this, but he had a pretty clear idea of where it was going. His mind did what it did best, and soon his thoughts were looping around upon themselves. He held Ezri in his arms and thought of the first time he’d been broken up with (in secondary, Sarah Reddy had passed him a note), and then of course, his brain just had to keep on going. He thought of Palis’s face the last time they’d spoken, and how odd it was that you could love someone for so long and watch them become a stranger before your very eyes. And then there was Andrew, who – oh, Julian hated to even think about it – it had all been a simple misunderstanding, really, and Julian had never even gotten the chance to explain any of it, and –

“Julian?”

“Hmm?”

Ezri pulled away to look Julian in the eyes. “Did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, no, I don’t – I don’t think that I did, actually.”

“Julian, you’re a lovely person, really this isn’t because of anything you’ve done, or not done.”

Julian forced a smile upon his face and found it didn’t feel as out of place as he’d expected. “Yes,” he managed to say.

“It just seems like, well - I’m not sure how else to say this - it seems like you reached for me because… because there was nothing else to reach for. And I’m not sure I can - actually I know that I can’t-“ she laughed softly, and for a split second Julian could hear Jadzia beneath the surface, “-because I‘ve got so much that I’m going through right now. I’m just not able to be an anchor for you.”

Julian’s breath caught in his chest. “I… understand,” he said slowly.

“I’m sorry, Julian, really – I don’t want you to think this is – I know it’s something people always say. You and I have talked about this, right? How people always say ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ and, how can you ever believe that when someone says it, because – I mean, of course, it’s always about you, if you’re the one who’s being – what if, oh, it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Ezri said through sniffles, “I’m the one ending this, and yet here you are, comforting me, as though-“

“Shh. None of that now.” Julian rubbed his hand over Ezri’s shoulder blades in slow circles.

“I’m making a huge mess of my life.”

“No.”

“I am.”

Julian put his hands on Ezri’s shoulders. “Ezri – Dax. Listen to me. You are doing no such thing.” I don’t know how you even did this. You got joined under such traumatic circumstances, you came right here to Deep Space Nine, into a – into a war, of all things, and you made a difference, Dax, you made a difference. You helped so many people. You helped me.”

“Really?”

Julian nodded. “Really.” He kissed Ezri on the corner of her mouth. “What do you need?”

Ezri narrowed her eyes. “From you, or in general?”

“Um, well, both, I suppose, but, what do you need right now?”

“I think –“ Ezri sniffled, and Julian got up and walked to the replicator.

“One box of tissues.” He handed the pink and white box to Ezri and sat back down on the sofa. Julian allowed his mind to parse the details of all the new information he’d taken in today; at the speed his thoughts were racing, he might actually be able to sleep tonight.

“Is it okay if – I just – can I stay here for a while?”

Julian nodded. “Of course.”

“I can’t be alone right now.” Julian looked at Ezri with perhaps a bit too much concern on his face. “But I’m fine,” she blurted out. “I’m fine, really. I just – I think it would be better if – would you mind if we watched some silly holo? Something really ridiculous.”

“I think I know just the thing. Computer, lower lights by 60 percent.” Julian pressed a few buttons and the opening theme to _T’Pakt and Valnik’s Illogical Adventure_ blared through his quarters.

“This is silly,” Ezri said. “I should go.”

“No, no,” Julian put a hand on her arm. “Please. Stay. Watch this with me. Just – forget about everything for a while.”

Ezri smiled, and the bright colors of the holo danced over her face. “You and Jadzia used to do this.”

Julian nodded. “Yes, we did. We always had fun together.” He looked at Ezri wistfully before turning his attention back to the holo.

“You know, this is turning into a real bitch of a situation - my Joining, that is. I didn’t have the proper training, or even any time to prepare, but I’m glad to be doing it my way. If I’d gone through all the training, and all the agreements and everything else, before getting joined, I wouldn’t be able to be here.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t have even been able to come back to DS9, if you’d gone through the official process.”

“I don’t want to lose the connections I had. I’m not going to let anyone take this from me.”

At that, Julian finally looked at her again, his features soft. “Good,” he said quietly. He was slightly surprised when Ezri took his hand and held it through the duration of the ridiculous holo.

* * *

Libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or, Kař [Kardasia Prime], Itzik’ar Kardasi [Cardassian System]  
eka’lansúi = (sent from a group, from an organization, from a government)  
12.41.27 // ta’ [day]

Representative Garak,

Please make you way to the Imperial District Transit Hub at once. Effective immediately, you are being relieved from duty for a minimum of twenty-one days. You will be taken via shuttle to Deep Space Nine, where you will be treated for your rak [shed]. Doctor Julian Bashir has graciously agreed to supervise care for the complications you are experiencing.

Upon completion of healing from your rak, or after twenty-one days, whichever is longer, you will return to Kardasi’Or and resume your duties in civil government.

It is my understanding the contents of your tailor shop remained on Deep Space Nine after you came back to Cardassia Prime. We are prepared to provide transport for your belongings when you are ready to return. 

First Minister of Health Ghelrell

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 1259.91 // ta’ [day]

First Minister of Health Gherell,

With all due respect, what in Prime has compelled you to make such a decision for me? I am experiencing some minor difficulties with a rak, it is nothing so serious as to need to be forcibly removed from Cardassia Prime in the midst of one of the worst crises my home world has ever seen. Surely you do not think my performance in civil government so unhelpful that I am to be banished from the planet for a second time? I believe if I can take two or three days in solitude here, my shiny new scales and I will be back to the hard work of governance in no time.

Civil Representative Garak

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 1306.25 // ta’ [day]

Garak, I swear on the sake of honor if you do not stop being such a rusla’řolak’siuraý [completely insufferable prick], I will come to your flat and shoot you in the koy'vlakt [ass, vulgar] with a gettle tranquilizer myself. And take great joy in doing so, if I might add.

Doctor Parmak  
Undersecretary to the First Minister of Health

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 1308.47 // ta’ [day]

Such a detailed description, Doctor, of how you would come and assault me in the safety of my own home. And all due to a bit of trouble I am having with a rak, of all things. Perhaps you should seek counseling for this unwarranted aggression.

Civil Representative Garak

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 1318.66 // ta’ [day]

Stop this ungratitude. It is dishonorable in the best of times, and during a time of great suffering, is obscene. As a physician, trust me when I say you do not wish to experience further complications like sepsis or scale rip. Go to Deep Space Nine, see your Doctor, and enjoy the twenty-one days away from this dusty mess of a home world.

Doctor Parmak  
Undersecretary to the First Minister of Health

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 1345.03 // ta’ [day]

It is true I occupy some positions of importance outside of Cardassia Prime, but I am hardly of the stature to have my own personal physician, Parmak.

Civil Representative Garak

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or  
zauajuq [Sent]: 1351.12 // ta’ [day]

The coy distraction act does not work on me anymore, Elim. Your emotions have grown transparent as of late. Too much time spent around those without scales.

Doctor Parmak  
Undersecretary to the First Minister of Health

* * *

libi’tola [Encrypted channel]  
mat’zaua [Transmission from]: Kardasi’Or

Kelas, you always were quick to

zaua’yaq [Unsent]: 0624.91 // ta’ [day]

* * *

Personal Transmission from: Kardasi’Or, Cardassia Prime  
Received: 04:19

My dear Doctor,

My most sincere apologies for the lack in communication. I am bothered at all hours of the night and day by the many needy hands of Cardassia, which pull at my robes to the point of ripping them to shreds. To be bothered by an old friend is a refreshing change of pace. I will spare you the numbing details of my everyday life, but I ask that you not refrain from sharing yours with me. I remain quite eager to hear your thoughts about the subplot of Forever Amongst These Familiar Moons.

Garak

* * *

Personal Transmission from: Deep Space Nine  
Sent: 04:21

Garak,

I’d give you a piece of my mind and tell you you’ve got quite a lot of explaining to do, but it looks like you’ll be trapped again on DS9 with nothing to do but sit in your quarters and shed, so you should have plenty of time to listen to me give you all the pieces of my mind I see fit to share. See you soon.

Julian

PS: Hope you like what I’ve done with the place

* * *

Julian sent the transmission from the sofa and spent the next twenty minutes reading and rereading Garak’s brief note and his own response. The thrill that filled his chest was electric, exhilarating, and offered him an inexplicable jolt of energy, with unfortunate timing. From all his tossing and turning, he ended up with a blanket wound around one of his slender legs like a python. His mind had been racing for the past eighteen hours, a constant stream of anywhere from two to six internal conversations happening simultaneously, all while he bumbled through his workday. Neither the creeping fatigue he felt in his muscles nor the knowledge of all the work the was ahead of him was enough to tamp down the rush, and at half past six, he gave up, got dressed and went to the infirmary to prepare for Garak’s arrival.

* * *

Encrypted Transmission from: Shi’Kahr, Vulcan  
Sent: 0518.92

Attention: Colonel Kira Nerys  
Station Commander, Deep Space Nine

Colonel Kira,

I write to offer you my personal gratitude to you for allowing me to stay on Deep Space Nine. I am pleased that you remain in a command position. A wise choice by Starfleet. One I expected, but none the less. I offer my sincerest gratitude to you and the Starfleet team who exceeded my expectations. I look forward to returning to a place which holds pleasant memories.

K. Cretak

**Author's Note:**

> Pounding the stones = I have incorporated lots of thoughts about stones into my vision of Cardassia when it comes to communications = first -->  
> \- the word "note" = kú’danok comes from -> kúna (stone) + údanok (bedroom/private/personal room).  
> In this fic, the first written Kardasi written came from the sea, from the 'living stones' (I will go into this later lol). The first writings were carved into stone. over time it became common to carve a brief message into stone and leave it on someone's doorstep or on a windowsill as a method of communication. As Cardassian culture is so focused on official, State, things (arkan = The State), I wanted to create some words for communication that is very clearly not for the State, therefore the idea of a stone being left for someone at their personal space window rather than on the doorstep for the whole family to see. etc... okay. i'm a HUGE FUCKING NERD OKAY
> 
> So, since stones are such an important part of Cardassian communication, "Pounding the stones," is a phrase that refers to the large stone tables in the halls of governments, as well as the frantic pace of recording things to writing that happens in government. So when the civil government is debating laws, they're pounding the stone tables, and when they are writing the laws and passing them around, they are pounding the stones in the usage of, hurriedly inscribing the laws onto the stones and sending them off for review and revision. Just like in other governments, I imagine in the older days this involved a lot of physical media. Not so much anymore, but the stone tables still remain in the meeting rooms of the civil government buildings... 
> 
> *since "rain" is so common for sexual slang, "soft rain": is the polite way to refer to the actual rain.  
> 
> 
> ///I'm tracking the vocabulary that I'm creating on my tumblr and in a separate document to post a few words at a time, since it is a lot! I'm going off of the tinsnip/vyc Kardasi dictionary and the NoxZi Consortium's Syansi dictionary. I have my own headcanons for each of these languages and also my own h/c for how language works in Cardassian culture but, suffice it to say that grammar and sentence structure isn't my main area of interest, I am mostly interested in adding words into the lexicon, so that's what I'm attempting to do here. When I'm creating words, I am noting them and posting the way I constructed them from the existing conlangs. :) I am also using words and concepts established in other fics and will try my best to reference that if it isn't something widely known :) I am excited :)


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